Hostile Takeover
by acorngirl
Summary: COMPLETE in 18 chapters. An AU where Frodo kept the Ring. In present day Chicago, he comes to the decision to finally destroy it. Fate has a way of reuniting the Fellowship to help him. This is best story I've ever written. Read it!!
1. The Counsel of L. Rond

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I only trot it out of my brain for your amusement. All of these characters and allusions to characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkein's estate.  
  
Author's Note: As you will probably guess, this is an AU where Frodo kept the Ring. In 21st. century Chicago he has finally come to the decision to destroy it once and for all.  
  
  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter One: The Counsel of L.Rond  
  
Sally Gamble loved her job. She had worked at Shire Publishing for the past ten years. For the last five she was the executive assistant to the owner and CEO. She acquired her current employment by peculiar happenstance, a matter of being in the right place at exactly the right time.  
  
She remembered how Mr. Baggins had come to her floor that day. She was a submissions editor then. All of her coworkers chattered with nervous excitement at the news of his tour of inspection, an impossibly rare event for a man world-famous for his reclusiveness. She felt an inexplicable sense of calm as he paused at her desk. His warm youthful eyes gazed at the plants placed around her as he fingered the delicate blossoms of her Christmas cactus. He asked her name and when she told him, he smiled.  
  
"I'm in need of a gardener of your talent Ms. Gamble. Would you like to move upstairs?" he asked with quiet earnest. There was nothing at all indecent about his invitation. Everyone present understood what had happened. He wasn't propositioning her. He was promoting her.  
  
Sally accepted without any hesitation. Although she had never set eyes upon him before she felt instantly that she knew him. He had wise eyes and a gentle manner and without understanding why, she knew that she would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked her.  
  
He ended his tour with this brief exchange and returned to the seclusion of his office. A place from which he would never seem to emerge again. The oddness of the event had occurred to Sally only in the far reaches of her mind. She never consciously questioned her appointment or the source of her deep devotion to her employer. She worked tirelessly for him and would not leave her job for any offer of monetary benefit.  
  
Since the day he invited her to work upstairs, Sally had very little contact with Mr. Baggins. He spoke to her daily but only through the intercom. She brought him herbal tea every morning and the back of his chair would be all she would see. He always faced the window that would offer an outstanding cityscape of Chicago, if only he would open the drapes. She could count the number of times she had seen his face on the fingers of one hand.  
  
She did not mind. She never felt more important. She truly belonged here.  
  
This day as she prepared the water for his tea she had the unique task of preparing enough for two. Mr. Baggins had a visitor. As his usual custom with her he dealt with others through telephone and computer. This gentleman however, insisted on a face-to-face meeting.  
  
Her calendar listed him simply as Mr. L. Rond. Sally had no knowledge of his occupation or his affiliation. At his arrival she felt more than a rush of curiosity. Something of his presence signaled a warning in her heart. Her protectiveness over Mr. Baggins rose inexplicably and her unease only grew as he disappeared behind the closed doors of her employer's office.  
  
At least the tea would give her an excuse to intrude on their meeting.  
  
She opened the door quietly and entered without raising suspicion. She carried an ornate wooden tray with two white china cups and a matching pot of near boiling water. She almost did not need to remind herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong.  
  
Mr. Rond sat opposite Mr. Baggins' desk with impeccable posture. He steepled his fingers in front of him and his voice carried a forbidding tone. "It's more than a merger that he's after," he said. He glanced briefly in Sally's direction and weighed the risk of his next statements on an extra pair of ears. "On paper he'll seize your assets, your presses, but you know what he really wants."  
  
Mr. Baggins stood leaning against his desk only a few feet away from Mr. Rond. He too looked to Sally and caught her eye. She swallowed hard and nearly missed the cup with the water she poured. Holding her gaze he answered, "Yes, that's why I must destroy it once and for all."  
  
Sally set the pot down with an unnerving rattle. Her hands began to tremble. What sort of corporate secrets did he make her privy to? Destroy what? What sort of danger was the Shire in?  
  
Mr. Rond regarded her with cold gray eyes. Apparently he did not approve of her untimely presence but he respected his host enough to speak freely. "You finally mean to do it?" he asked darkly. "It won't be like before. There will be no fellowship to protect you this time."  
  
Mr. Baggins sighed heavily and reluctantly pulled his weight away from the edge of his desk. For the first time Sally had ever known him, he seemed truly tired. "Does it matter?" he asked wearily. "This must be done."  
  
He walked around his desk and pulled open the drapes. The afternoon sunlight flooded the room causing the occupants to squint against the sudden brightness. "I have complete mastery over the Ring but it understands nothing of the new power," he explained.  
  
Mr. Baggins surveyed the world beyond his window as Sally stirred the tea trying no to make a sound. "Evil has changed its tactics and found a way to thrive in this world," he continued. "I have not adapted so well. I lead with my heart and not my head and my shortcomings have weakened the Ring's power."  
  
"It will seek a new Master," Mr. Rond said with warning. He focused his attention solely on Mr. Baggins searching for and analyzing any subtle reaction to his assertion. He did not even acknowledge Sally as she placed his tea in front of him.  
  
Sally herself had heard more than enough. The terms and thoughts bandied about in this office spoke of deep and primal threats unknown to her. She could take nothing of what she had witnessed and form any coherent thought let alone any theory of the danger that was present. The tea had been served and she had no more reason to tarry. She simply wanted to return to the innocence of her little desk and leave these grave matters behind. Mr. Baggins would know what to do and when he needed her opinion, he would ask for it.  
  
Mr. Baggins lifted his fingers to the glass of the window in front of him. Such a thin layer separated him from the touch of the city before him. "It already has," he said with finality. "Soon it will forsake me entirely."  
  
As Sally reached for the door handle, Mr. Baggins called out to her. Her hand fell to her side and she found she could not escape. "Sally, when we are finished here, will you escort Mr. Rond to his car."  
  
"Of course, Sir," she replied. Her words came out in a rush of air that she did not realize she had been holding. Finally she allowed herself to leave.  
  
In four swift steps she reached her desk and slid into her chair. Something of the familiar cushions of her seat and the feel of her hands on her keyboard comforted her. A calm steady breath returned to her but she could not dismiss what she had heard from her mind. Something big was about to happen and what role she had to play in it remained a mystery.  
  
Sally startled at the sound of Mr. Baggins' office door opening. Mr. Rond emerged and she rose to meet him. Without a word she walked with him to the elevator. She followed him in and pressed the button for the lower level parking garage.  
  
A long moment passed before Mr. Rond broke the silence. "Mr. Baggins trusts you," he said.  
  
In her heart she already knew that but hearing it from someone else made it more real. "I am honored," she replied.  
  
"You should be," he said looking down at her through narrowed eyes. "It is nearly unprecedented."  
  
Sally watched as the floor indicator lit up lower and lower numbers. Her time with Mr. L. Rond was fleeting. "Is the Shire in danger, Sir?"  
  
He looked straight ahead at the doors in front of him. "It has taken on unnecessary financial burdens," he stated coldly. "Five years is much too long to pay an unproductive workforce."  
  
Sally's defense of her employer rose again. "He was seen as a hero for continuing their salaries," she said, her voice higher than she had hoped. "It wasn't their fault the factory burned to the ground."  
  
"His generosity has brought the Shire to near financial ruin," he said turning to her. "A takeover from another publisher is imminent."  
  
Sally met his dark gray eyes. She remembered the sense of danger. "But you spoke of matters beyond the takeover," she said quietly. A soft electronic voice announced that they had reached the lower level parking garage.  
  
Mr. Rond stepped towards her and to her great surprise he laid his hand on her shoulder. "It is not for me to say but if your employer trusts you to the degree I foresee, you will understand these matters more intimately than you could ever hope to. Stay close to him, Ms. Gamble. He needs someone he trusts." He released her as the elevator door opened to revealed the myriad of cars and concrete walls tinted yellow in the artificial light. "You no longer need to accompany me. I can find my way from here."  
  
Sally managed to strangle out a simple "Good day, Sir," before reverting to her state of stunned silence. She watched Mr. L. Rond's retreating dark form before the closing doors cut him from her sight. She knew he was someone of great significance. She just didn't know how. She simply felt it.  
  
As if her day did not have enough surprises, Sally returned to her desk to find Mr. Baggins sitting there, waiting for her. In the flesh. She nearly stumbled off the elevator towards him. "Mr. Baggins?" she asked breathlessly.  
  
Sally had hoped to bring at least the hint of a smile to his eyes at her comical entrance but his own thoughts were far too grave to notice. "Sally, I have to go away," he said quietly. "I have to leave the Shire."  
  
Her heart sank to form a heavy lump in her stomach. Incredibly she managed to take several steps towards him before she realized she could no longer feel her feet. The thought of Mr. Baggins leaving the Shire was inconceivable. He was the Shire. But somewhere within her a part of her had listened to everything that had been said that day. That part of her knew this was coming. "Can you tell me where you're going?" she asked.  
  
The smile she had hoped for suddenly graced his face. "I'll do more than that," he told her. "If you're willing, I'll take you with me."  
  
TBC  
  
In chapter two: "At the Sign of Gate 12A" a great deal of action takes place and we'll see something you wouldn't have expected in a Chicago airport. You'll love it, just wait and see. 


	2. At the Sign of Gate 12A

Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter one.  
  
Author's note is at the end.  
  
Hostile Takeover—Chapter Two: At the Sign of Gate 12A  
  
Sally pushed through the glass door and emerged from the airport. She shielded her eyes from the sun and scolded herself for forgetting her sunglasses. She saw a great deal of activity on the tarmac, pilots checking various parts of planes, ground crew driving their little carts, men in suits inspecting, looking. All of them appeared very useful doing things that must have great purpose.  
  
None of it she really understood, but then again she didn't know if there was anything left in the world that she understood anymore.  
  
Mr. Baggins had had a long talk with her about the purpose of his trip. He had appeared tired and sad and very, very humble. "At one time there were people of great wisdom and power who could tell you this tale but now I'm afraid there is only me," he had said in an effort to begin. The words that followed told of a Ring, a Ring he had been entrusted with to destroy.  
  
Sally heard a great many things from him that afternoon. He spoke of great evil and great power. He told her how he had failed in his task. A weakness had overcome him and instead of destroying the Ring, he claimed it for himself. He intended to complete the task that he could not so long ago. His vulnerability had shamed him in a way he could not express in words. Sally felt that he had dedicated his life to making up for this thing he could not do. In the end, nothing would fit but the deed itself.  
  
Although the tale itself did not blur in her mind, her belief in it did. Some of the details were too incredible for her to take at face value, but she refused to believe that her employer had gone mad. She did not have to believe the entire story to believe in him.  
  
He would destroy the Ring and Sally would be with him. If there was only one thing she took out of his conversation with her, it was that. The rest she would accept little by little and only when she needed to.  
  
At the moment only one thing creased her brow with worry. Mr. Baggins had sent her ahead to verify the readiness of his plane. His plane was not where it was supposed to be.  
  
Standing on the tarmac feeling quite useless, Sally opened her cell phone and dialed Mr. Baggins in his car.  
  
"Sally?" he answered on the other end. He had been awaiting her call.  
  
"Mr. Baggins, I don't know what's going on, but your plane is not here," she said tensely.  
  
She heard him sigh heavily. "I was afraid of this," he said softly, more to himself than to her.  
  
Sally looked around her, hoping the answer to her mystery would present itself to her. A voice in the back of her mind told her that there was more wrong with this scene than just a missing plane. The pilots seemed normal. The ground crew did not strike her as out of place. But…. "Sir," she said, "there are several men here dressed in black suits. I'm not sure what they're doing." They appeared to be pacing, looking for something.  
  
"I don't like the sound of that Sally," he told her. She could sense that he held his urgency back. "Come back to the car."  
  
"But maybe they know what happened to your plane," she protested. One of them turned his attention to her and began to approach. He did not smile at her. In fact, she had difficulty making out his face.  
  
"Stay away from them, Sally!" she could hear Mr. Baggins yelling but her phone seemed very far away.  
  
Sally became aware that she was unable to move. A great and primal fear had gripped her. She stared at the approaching black-suited man unable to look away. Somehow she knew she should run but she just couldn't make herself do it.  
  
For a moment, the scene altered before her eyes. The sky became dark and the asphalt of the airport tarmac took on the look of a wide dirt road. The man's suit became a flowing black hooded cloak and he appeared before her atop a demonic looking black horse. For this briefest of moments, she had clarity of thought. She knew what this thing was before her and she knew what it wanted.  
  
Terrified beyond words, she stumbled backwards to the door of the airport. At the touch of the cold steel of the door's handle, reality slipped back into place. Daylight returned and the image of horses and dark cloaks disappeared. The man in black and Sally's mounting fear remained.  
  
The man closest to her seemed to open his mouth but words did not come out. Instead a shrill, inhuman shriek pierced the air, alerting the other men in black suits to Sally's impending escape. They all turned their heads towards her in unison, snapping them in place as if she herself had cried out to them.  
  
She yanked hard on the handle and slipped inside just as they reached for her. Not even slowing to look behind her she raced through Midway airport, careening through the other patrons and employees as if they were obstacles in her path. She ran faster than her fashionable shoes would allow. The heel of her left shoe snapped like a twig and she crumpled to the hard floor beneath her. The impact jarred her cell phone out of her hand and it skidded across the tiles several paces ahead of her.  
  
Sally cursed herself for not having planned this more rationally. She should have known better. Maybe she had doubted Mr. Baggins' story more than she realized. Did she not hear the warnings? Did she not believe the danger? Had she not watched enough disaster films to know to wear more practical shoes?  
  
These self-deprecating thoughts were fleeting, as the urgency of her retreat had not left her mind. As she began to pull herself to her feet, she looked ahead of her to locate her cell phone.  
  
It laid at the feet of a tall, gentleman wearing an expensive Italian suit.  
  
Sally opened her mouth to report a courteous note of gratitude but quickly closed it again as she watched the man reach for her phone. He regarded her with a cold cunning that filled her with dread. This man had no intent to do anything that would require her gratitude. Without glancing back she could feel the men in black gather behind her.  
  
They didn't take her, as she expected they would. Something held them in check, like guard dogs obeying their master. They looked to the man who held her phone for their orders and he controlled them with the slightest gesture of his hand.  
  
The man was an older gentleman, almost elderly but of the utmost refinement. He wore his hair long, a mane of silvery white that hung past his shoulders. As he lifted the phone to his mouth he spoke in a voice so velvety smooth that it would almost be comforting if the words he used were not so menacing.  
  
"Mr. Baggins, your choice in traveling companions intrigues me," he spoke, holding Sally to the floor with his terrible gaze. "One of the most influential businessmen in the world and he takes his secretary. This isn't a business trip, Frodo. I command the nine now."  
  
Sally couldn't help but wonder about Mr. Baggin's reaction on the other end. Would he plead for her life or simply listen in stunned silence? She could not wait for him to come rushing in to her rescue. If she had any hope for an escape, her fate laid in her own hands. She simply needed to have the clarity to plan her move and the courage to make it.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: Chapter Three: "Flight to Ford and Vine" Frodo and his plucky assistant try to get out of the city. New problems present themselves as well as an interesting new character will make an appearance. Anyone who would like an email notification of chapter updates, please let me know. It's way too easy to get lost. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed. You keep me going.  
  
Any fans of "On the Beach" that are reading this… I've written the first chapter of "William" and am beginning to think I should do the prequel first. So as I work on chapter 3 of "Hostile Takeover", I'll be working on "Visions of Blood and Fire". I haven't forgotten you guys. I promise that I will finish this saga. 


	3. Flight to Ford and Vine

Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter One. This chapter contains direct quotes from Fellowship of the Ring and Return of the King.  
  
Author's note at the end of this chapter.  
  
  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Three: Flight to Ford and Vine  
  
  
  
"We know your plans, the funds that have been made available," the white- haired gentleman said with satisfaction into the phone. His lips cracked a smile that seemed unnatural for his cold face. He glanced around him to assure himself that his unusual scene had not drawn any unwanted attention. Not that he would care if he had surrounded himself with an audience of onlookers. Circumstances could not have been more in his favor if he had planned it. Sally had literally thrown herself at his feet and he held his enemy captive on the phone line. Time to level out the odds of this millennias' old contest. "A transfer of that magnitude must be made in person and I have the bank under surveillance now. You must choose. Destroy the Ring or save your Shire Publishing. You can't do both. Surren—"  
  
He had become overconfident. The slender phone flew out of his hand, dislodged by something hard thrown with fear and fury. Sally's unbroken shoe. He had underestimated the secretary, he thought fleetingly as she sprang at him. The force of her awkward, unpredictable impact knocked him to the floor. She had caught him so off guard he was not able to signal the men in black around her until she had reached her feet and made her escape.  
  
Sally's hand reached down to retrieve her cell phone from the floor as her unshod feet carried her away almost of their own accord. Earsplitting shrieks filled her head as the men took pursuit. She ran, her feet finding surer footing than before. She brought the phone up to her ear. "Start the car," she sputtered into the receiver.  
  
"Sally?!" Mr. Baggins' voice choked in disbelief.  
  
Her feet ached as they ran hard without protection. She moved faster than her lungs could give her breath and she gasped for air. She would not listen to the sounds behind her. She would not look. She would only run. "Start the car!" she repeated with terror. Hell itself followed her.  
  
She threw herself out the exit and ran along the concrete sidewalk. The sight of Mr. Baggins' car renewed her energy. Its door flew open to receive her and she jumped into its safe haven. She pulled frantically at the door handle to pull it shut. "Go! Go! Go! Just drive away!" she screamed to the unseen driver. The tires screeched and the car lurched away in wordless response.  
  
Sally sat trembling in the wake of her adrenalin rush. She felt sick and in the temporary safety of the moment her emotions threatened to crash. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she slowed her heavy breaths. She barely noticed Mr. Baggins' presence.  
  
"Sally…?" he called to her hesitantly. From her tremulous state he had no hint of what had happened. He feared the tale she would tell and cursed himself for exposing her to it.  
  
She looked down at her feet. Blood had seeped into her stockings and she could feel its stickiness between her toes. Only now could she feel the throbbing pain. "My shoes are gone," she mumbled from her daze.  
  
He reached out and clutched her shoulder. Her attention snapped towards him, startled by the sudden contact. Her lip quivered and her tears came harder. "What just happened? Who was that man?" she demanded in a strangled cry.  
  
Mr. Baggins' face looked sorrowful. "He goes by the name of Solomon, head of Whitehand Press, but his true name is Saruman. He wants to force a merger." He knew his explanation would sound weak before he even said it. There was so much more to it. Even if he had a week he could not tell the complete tale.  
  
But Sally understood the most important key. "You mean a hostile takeover? Getting the Shire is just a tactic." The men in black almost didn't matter. They were mindless automatons bent to the will of that white- haired man. He wanted the Ring and he would do fiendish things to get it. Sally closed her mind to the horrors he would commit if he possessed it.  
  
"It is," Mr. Baggins replied grimly. "He'll do what he can to force my hand." Including taking his company. Including harming her. His hand had not left her shoulder. He tightened his grip at the thought of how close he'd come to losing her. "However did you get away?" he asked.  
  
Sally shook her head stiffly. "I'm not even sure. I just got so scared. It all happened so fast," she replied. She strained to pull any detail of her escape from her memory but it hurt to focus. All she could think was that her shoes were gone. She absentmindedly closed her cell phone still clutched tightly in her hand. She looked back to her concerned employer. A strange object leaning against his leg caught her eye. It resembled the hilt of a small sword. "What were you going to do?" she asked, not able to look away from it.  
  
He followed her gaze to the sword and then moved it under the seat out of sight. He almost seemed embarrassed. "I was coming to get you," he admitted quietly.  
  
Sally realized that she had already considered his coming to her rescue. She smiled weakly. "I am very grateful, Sir, but I have a feeling that would have been very stupid."  
  
He did not reflect her smile but only said sadly, "I didn't know what else to do, Sally."  
  
Sally leaned her head back in her seat and looked out the window. She recognized immediately which direction the car had taken. Without a specific destination the driver assumed they would want to return to the office. That place did not seem safe to her anymore. "What do we do now?" she asked.  
  
Mr. Baggins held his head in his hands defeatedly. "I don't know anymore," he confessed with quiet despair. "L. Rond provided funds to save the Shire but with Saruman's forces watching the bank in New York…He'll stop anyone attempting to make the transfer." He dragged his face up from his hands slowly not able to pull himself up fully. "He's right. I can't do both."  
  
Sally looked upon him with sympathy but a great sadness grew within her as she considered the details of his plan. "You had planned to send me to New York while you destroyed the Ring alone," she accused him softly. The realization hurt more than seemed natural to admit.  
  
He looked at her. He recognized the woundedness of her large brown eyes. He had had this argument before. His chances of winning this time were no better than last. Still, he had to try. "Sally--" he began.  
  
"That's hard, Sir," she broke in, "You would go without me." The words came out of her without a coherent thought preceding them. Her voice sounded strange, almost as if it was not her own. The emotions contained within her were strong and deep, ancient, like a trapped memory.  
  
"That was just a taste of my road ahead," he said warningly as he pointed indistinctly behind them. "It would be the death of you to come with me, Sally, and I could not have borne that."  
  
Sally's bottom lip drew outward and her eyes glistened with new tears. She didn't understand the intensity of the feelings or where they came from. They consumed her like the water of a rushing river coming over her head. "Not as certain as being left behind," she said.  
  
He sighed heavily. He knew he could say nothing to convince her. He had nothing left to say. "You're the only one I trust," he admitted sadly. "I couldn't send anyone else to New York."  
  
L. Rond's words came to her then, pulling her to the surface, clearing her mind. 'Stay close to him. He needs someone he can trust.' In her fear, she had behaved childishly. She wiped her tears away with her fingertips self-consciously. "I'm going with you," she said as if her words settled the matter. In her mind, the foundations of a plan began to form. "We were meant to go together. You may only trust me, Sir, but there are those that I trust. Perhaps you can extend your confidence to include them with me."  
  
  
  
Piper Tune leaned against the bicycle rack outside the comic shop on the corner of Ford and Vine and stared lazily at her cuticles. Her roommate, Sally, had asked her to wait for her there and Piper exerted great effort not to let her anxiety show. The truth was that beneath her blue-tipped, jet-black bangs, she worried considerably about her friend. Sally did not sound right, not herself at all. Her words were stifled, saying almost nothing at all.  
  
Just 'wait at the shop'. So Piper waited.  
  
Her appearance showed a woman who lived her life in a constant search for her true self. She tried on careers much like she tried on different hair colors. She almost couldn't remember what she really looked like underneath the dye.  
  
At least she found something to do that made her happy. She had created a comic book called "Coming out of the Woodwork", a traditional story of good versus evil that made her the number one independent comic creator in the country. Some of the tales came from things she imagined as a child. Some from her dreams.  
  
She once believed in such things as elves and trolls and wizards. Then one day she woke up and realized that those things didn't really exist. Reality came and obliterated her dreams. She'd been rebelling from it ever since. Some called her immature but she preferred to think of herself as the eternal child. She always wore a different face, just to keep the world at arm's length, hiding the fact that she'd grown up long ago.  
  
She hated losing her innocence.  
  
As a writer, she could bring her childhood world to life. In her stories, the hero always made it through safely. But reality threatened the purity of her dreams again. Something big was coming. She could feel it. Trouble wouldn't be a big enough word to describe it.  
  
Piper frowned as a large, dark blue car pulled up to the curb. Too big for a car. Too small for a limo. Right now it blocked the only space in front of the shop. She stepped forward to tell the driver to move but stopped as she watched Sally get out.  
  
Piper whistled appreciatively. "Whoa, girl. When you show up, you show up in style," she said smiling. She looked her friend over to assure herself that she was well. Her gaze stopped at Sally's feet, bloody and bare. She swallowed and hoped that her jump in concern did not show. "What the hell happened to your shoes?"  
  
Sally glanced down at her feet as if she had forgotten. To explain would only complicate her situation further. "This isn't a social call, Piper," she said grimly.  
  
Piper folded her arms across her chest and studied her friend's face. "I gathered that from the cryptic phone call," she said.  
  
Part of Sally's strange demeanor faltered only to be replaced by her trademark guilty face. She ran her hand through her brown curls and grimaced. "Yeah, about that," she said uneasily, "I need to borrow your car."  
  
Piper snorted with laughter, partly from the absurdity of the request and partly from relief. Sally in her sheepishness seemed more like herself. Maybe all her worrying was for nothing. Maybe there was no danger. Maybe Sally got caught up in something embarrassing and would tell her about it at dinner. Then she could laugh without it being a false bravado. "What, you're going to show your famous boss how the other half lives?"  
  
Sally's eyes grew suddenly wide and she turned nervously to the still open car door. "Piper!" she cried aghast. When she looked back at her friend, she realized her mistake immediately.  
  
Piper grinned widely in triumph. "He's in there, isn't he?" she asked slyly.  
  
Sally's hesitation was all she needed for an answer. With a look of mischief on her face she ducked under her friend's arms and dodged her efforts to block her.  
  
"Piper, no! Don't!!" Sally cried as she tried to stop her from entering the car.  
  
Piper jumped into the car's dark interior with hopes of having a laugh at Sally's expense. What she found, she could not have guessed or even understood.  
  
As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she looked fully upon the face of Mr. Baggins. Her breath caught itself in her throat and the smile melted from her face.  
  
As a child she had seen him in her dreams. At that moment, she realized that a part of her had searched for him her whole life. "It's you," she whispered.  
  
He didn't even look surprised when she threw her arms around him in an embrace. He almost seemed relieved.  
  
"You tried to give us the slip once before and failed," she said close to his ear. She had never met him before though she knew him long ago.  
  
In the days before her innocence left her.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: It might be a couple of weeks before I update. (Yeah, big surprise there…) I am writing this and "Visions of Blood and Fire" simultaneously. I write a chapter of that and then I write a chapter of this and then I post them both the same day. Your reviews mean A LOT to me and drive me to write better and more exciting stuff for you, so review "early and often". Anyone who would like for me to notify them of updates, PLEASE, let me know.  
  
The following chapters will introduce a couple of characters that I hope you will like. I will also expound on the thoughts of Mr. Baggins' driver. Trust me, I wasn't going to have him there just for window dressing.  
  
Chapter Four: "Two is Company", Sally and Mr. Baggins leave for O'Hare airport but before they do there is a matter of a certain sword which needs to be taken care of. Sally finds that darkness lurks closer to her than she thinks. 


	4. Two is Company

Author's Note: My chapters never go as planned. What I had intended to be chapter 4 turned into chapters 4 and 5. Here is Chapter 4. Chapter 5 is in the revision process and could be up as early as tomorrow. Once again I am sorry for the delay. A small (but completely cured) case of writer's block and obligations to my comic book are responsible. I'll try not to let it happen again. Please enjoy! And if you do, please review. Thank you to all who have reviewed so far. It really keeps me going.  
  
Another Author's note will follow this chapter.  
  
Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
"Hostile Takeover": Chapter Four—Two is Company  
  
Piper had forgotten who she was and what she was doing. She had lost herself in the moment, a feeling of deep, soulful recognition. She had reacted on feeling buried deep within her. Memories of journies along dusty roads and overgrown paths scratched just beneath the surface of her consciousness. For this small piece of time she felt the joy of reunion.  
  
But, all good things must end and Sally had endured enough of her friend's intrusion. A now familiar sense of protectiveness over her employer had resurfaced. "Get off of him!" she shouted as she grabbed Piper by the shoulders and pulled her off of Mr. Baggins. She stared at her friend hard waiting for her usual flippant response. Unexpectedly she was silent.  
  
Piper's face held only a half-smile and her eyes glistened with tears. Her body stood, feet firmly planted to the sidewalk but her mind remained in the embrace. Something profound had happened and Sally felt its effect wash over her. "Piper, what's come over you?" she asked.  
  
Piper blinked, a subtle nudge back to the present moment. She turned her eyes away from the car towards her friend and managed a weak smile. "I don't know," she murmured. Her right hand dove deeply into her jean's pocket and retrieved a set of car keys. Without another word, she handed the keys to Sally.  
  
Sally took them hesitantly. "No arguments?" she asked. She watched her friend with concern. Piper was always the laughing one, smiling, joking, never, ever, ever serious. What had just happened to cause this sudden transformation? She feared something dark but she knew that wasn't right. Piper had touched something Sally was afraid to even acknowledge. She wasn't ready to face it so she had to just let it go. She trusted Mr. Baggins. She would have to trust this too.  
  
Piper shook her head. "Nope," she said simply. This time she looked at Sally closely. "You're in deep, aren't you?" she asked. Somehow, without explanations, she just understood.  
  
Sally's eyes widened but inside she felt relief. "Someone's after us," she heard herself say. "Men wearing black. They want something Mr. Baggins has." She had simplified the events of the day into three simple statements. Images came at her in flashes and she looked away from Piper before she made the gravity of her predicament too evident.  
  
"The car's behind the shop," Piper told her. In the recesses of her mind she knew. Like a primal sense she understood their danger. Like a nightmare just beyond her recall she knew what they were after. She focused her attention on Mr. Baggins as he emerged from the car. He seemed strangely out of place in front of the comic shop, like her worlds collided and could not find a way to fit together.  
  
He smiled at her warmly. "Thank you," he said sincerely, "You've almost assured our safety."  
  
Piper shook her head, scoffing at him gently. "Liar," she accused him, "I just bought you a little time."  
  
He looked after Sally thoughtfully as she retrieved their bags from the trunk of the car. "Sally told me I could trust you."  
  
"You know you can," Piper replied, suddenly looking away uncomfortably. "I'm better at keeping secrets than I used to be."  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, some words of comfort, something to acknowledge that she did not suffer the strangeness of this moment alone, but he could not bring voice to the words. Sally thankfully interrupted.  
  
Better left unsaid. She would understand soon enough.  
  
"Piper," Sally called softly, hefting her bag onto her shoulder, "tell Merrick I'll be calling him. I need him to do something." Without warning she hugged her friend closely and Piper returned the gesture. More than a farewell, Sally used the opportunity to whisper into Piper's ear. "Remember the game we used to play?" she asked, "The code we used?"  
  
"High-low?" Piper breathed in a voice only Sally could hear.  
  
"Yeah," Sally nodded, parting from her friend. "I'll be using that when I call him." She looked back to the car only to see Mr. Baggins pulling something out from underneath the back seat. Before she could see the object clearly he tucked it inside his coat.  
  
Piper took her hand and pressed something hard and flat into her palm. "Here," she said in a husky voice filled with emotion. "You'll need this."  
  
Sally opened her hand and saw a credit card. "What for?" she asked frowning.  
  
Piper looked at her incredulously. If they were playing a game, Sally was forgetting the rules. "People are chasing you, right?" she said in a serious tone. "They'll probably be watching your card usage. That's mine, it's new and it's got a $5,000 credit limit."  
  
Sally's eyes began to sting as her fingers wrapped around the card. Fear and danger seemed to matter little to her now. She was leaving and she had not prepared herself for saying good-bye. So much attention had been paid to the act of getting away that she had forgotten the good of what she left behind. She threw her arms around Piper's neck and held her close again. No more secrets to be shared, just a simple, heartfelt "Thank you."  
  
Piper felt the weight of the moment in the tightness of the embrace. They had set events into motion that would change them profoundly. Although they could not foresee them they felt their presence. They did not know how much time would pass and what would happen before they would see each other again.  
  
For once in her life, Piper was speechless as she released her friend.  
  
"It's only fair then that I give you this," Mr. Baggins said, gently intruding upon their farewell. He extended his hand to Piper, concealing its contents in his palm.  
  
Piper reached out and took something from him. She smiled as she looked at the card he had given her. A look of playfulness had returned to her eyes. "Wow, the company card," she laughed softly. "I'll do everything in my power to draw them off your trail."  
  
  
  
Sally rounded the corner of the store, down the alley to the rear of the building. She really and truly wanted to stay with Piper. Fear and uncertainty marred her future path and she doubted her courage and strength. She looked back at Mr. Baggins as he followed closely behind. Something deeper than obligation pushed her now. She was afraid of going but staying would be worse than death.  
  
In this one day she had spent more time with Mr. Baggins than all of her past meetings with him combined. Still so much of him remained a mystery. She knew what she saw. She knew what he had told her of his past and had experienced the danger of his life first hand. But something wasn't right. She could not pinpoint the feeling, just this vague sense that she should know him better. He was hiding something much as he hid the object in his coat.  
  
"Sir," she asked tentatively, "I saw you take that…that thing out of the car." Her mind tried to recall the image of the short sword. She did not know what to call it. She felt certain there had to be a name.  
  
"Yes, Sally?" he responded innocently.  
  
She stopped and looked at him uncomfortably. "You know they're not going to let you get through customs with that," she explained.  
  
Mr. Baggins rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That problem had not occurred to him. "What should it be then?" he asked.  
  
"Excuse me?" Sally replied. He startled with her the question.  
  
"How about an umbrella?" he suggested as he reached into his coat and pulled out the short sword. He held it out in his hand between them. "Umbrellas are acceptable, aren't they?"  
  
Sally saw the short sword clearly for the first time. She had never seen anything so intricately tooled and delicately ornate before. She could not take her eyes away from its beauty. Her mind only barely registered his question. "I guess so," she replied. She longed to touch it and she could almost imagine the feel of its weight in her hand.  
  
"Alright then," Mr. Baggins continued, "an umbrella it is." While he held the fine sword in one hand, his other hand reached into the breast pocket of his suit. He pulled nothing out, but only seemed to clutch something momentarily. When he removed his hand from his suit, he held an umbrella in his outstretched hand. The umbrella was small and brown and utterly inconspicuous. The sword had disappeared.  
  
Sally did not know if she had even blinked but her mind did not register the change. He held the umbrella in his hand as if the sword never existed at all. So subtle was the transformation she felt no surprise. She simply doubted what she saw. "What just happened?" she asked.  
  
"I cast a glamour over it," Mr. Baggins answered matter-of-factly as he turned the umbrella over in his hands to illustrate. "It is still what it is but you see it as an umbrella."  
  
Sally could not tell from his words if he had bespelled the sword itself or all who looked upon it. She found this small demonstration of power distasteful and his use of the Ring cast a darkness over him that frightened her. How could he hold an object of such awesome power, use it and not be corrupted by it? "Do you do that a lot?" she asked him. Her voice sounded small and faraway.  
  
The look on Sally's face spoke volumes. She had run for her life with the Nazgul at her heels and had escaped Saruman himself with only her wits to save her but what she truly feared stood right in front of her. He had used the Ring in a cavalier fashion, like an amateur magician making a rabbit disappear. He had forgotten himself and in that moment he had forgotten her too. Centuries had passed since the last time he had used the Ring in the presence of another. He had forgotten to be ashamed of wielding its power.  
  
He had forgotten who he was. He had forgotten who she was once.  
  
His throat tightened and his hands dropped to his sides, nearly concealing the umbrella behind him. "I'm sorry, Sally," he said softly.  
  
Sally shook her head stiffly. "No, it's okay," she replied, turning towards Piper's car, away from him. Her hands fumbled to place the key into the lock of the blue Volkswagen Beetle. She hid her face from him, concealing the feelings that lurked behind her doe eyes. "I just wasn't expecting it," she added.  
  
She hid nothing. He knew it wasn't okay.  
  
  
  
Piper had watched her friend walk out of her sight and a feeling of helplessness descended upon her. She had quelled the voice inside her that repeated endlessly, 'Take me with you'. She would have gone if they had asked but they didn't. They left her alone. She turned back to the street and a curious smile stretched across her face.  
  
They had left the company car with her.  
  
She opened the door and climbed into the darkened interior. She smiled appreciatively as she ran her hands along the smooth leather of the seat. In front of her was an array of buttons and knobs to control every aspect of the environment in the passenger compartment. Her hand paused and hovered over a button simply labeled 'screen'.  
  
Once she pressed it the dark panel separating her from the front seat of the car slowly disappeared. She wasn't alone. An imposingly tall, dark- skinned man sat stoically in the driver's seat.  
  
"Do you come with the company car?" she asked coyly knowing that they were quite aware of each other's presence.  
  
"Mr. Baggins instructed me to escort you around the city until his return," the driver replied without turning to face her. His voice was deep and melodic and rich with a bass that she could nearly feel reverberate against her chest.  
  
Piper nodded faintly. He exchanged his car and driver for her car and friend. At least Mr. Baggins told someone he would be back. She just wished she could believe it as well as his driver. "Do you have any idea when that will be?" she asked hopefully.  
  
"No, ma'am," he replied.  
  
"Okay," she said quietly. The question had been worth asking even if she already knew the answer. She had no idea where they were going, no idea when they would come back and only a vague sense of their danger. She needed to find some way to keep herself from worrying. "So what does he call you?" she asked.  
  
"Excuse me?" he called back to her. He had turned his head to the side slightly and she could see his eyes in the rear view mirror, dark and meaningful. He didn't seem to be the type who had personal conversations often.  
  
"Your name," Piper clarified with a smile. "What's your name?"  
  
"Grigor," he answered, looking away from the mirror. Ever the professional.  
  
"Grigor, huh?" she repeated. She reached over and pulled her door shut then fell back into her seat heavily. "Well, Grigor, I have a hot piece of plastic and a really big car at my disposal. Let's go shopping."  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note (part two): To answer Curi's question: No, a hint of how not is in this chapter. An all out explanation will be in chapter 6. I'm stunned that you are the first to ask that.  
  
Chapter 5: "The Ring Goes East": the heavily anticipated October 6 at 35,000 feet. I promise. 


	5. The Ring Goes East

Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter One.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Five: The Ring Goes East  
  
He could feel the weight of the Ring as a painful chill swept through him. It called to him softly. 'I am a part of you', it said though it did not use words. He shut his eyes tightly, denying the voice inside him. He grit his teeth through the pain, knowing it would only grow worse. Soon he would no longer be able to hide his suffering from anyone.  
  
What would Sally do when she found out?  
  
Millennia had passed since he had resisted the will of the Ring so strongly. Not since it proclaimed him as its master had he even considered denying it.  
  
Sensing the eminence of its own destruction, it had bargained with him at the crack of doom. 'Take me up as your own and I will deny him. Use me and I will expel his essence and redesign myself in your image.' Had he not fallen so deeply within his own darkness, he would not have answered. He knew it would not save him from what he truly suffered but a weakness forced his hand. He took the Ring and proclaimed himself its master once and for all.  
  
His life had resembled nothing credible since. The Ring had become a part of him, reveling in his successes, feeling his pain. It wanted him to use it. It promised him relief and he wanted to answer it with all of his heart.  
  
But he refused. He would not use the Ring again. Ever. The look on Sally's face that afternoon held the reason. His use of it had changed him and no longer could he deny that he was not untouched by its corruption. To destroy the Ring he must first refuse to use it, even to ease his suffering from wounds of body and spirit. He would survive this day as he had all the countless days before only without the Ring's help.  
  
Mr. Baggins leaned against a pillar for support in Chicago's O'Hare airport and watched Sally return from the ticket counter. She smiled weakly as she waved two small airline folders in her hand. "Well, here's our boarding passes, Sir," she said wearily, handing him one of the folders. "I'm sorry but I couldn't afford us any better than coach."  
  
"That's alright, Sally," he said softly. "I don't mind." He had spent years building a great reputation for being a recluse but he found himself oddly pleased at the idea of being around so many people. He had hidden himself away for too long. He only hoped that he would not attract too much attention.  
  
He winced noticeably as he lifted his bag from the floor and Sally reacted with a concerned frown. "Are you alright, Sir?" she asked.  
  
He passed his hand over his face as if to wipe away his pained expression. "Just tired, I suppose," he replied. He looked away from her, hiding the strain that would not leave him. His words sounded like the feeble dismissal that they were but Sally thought better than to pursue it. She would learn enough in time. She hefted the wide strap of her bag onto her shoulder and began to make her way to their gate.  
  
She would move much better now that she wore canvas shoes.  
  
He walked alongside of her, hiding the effort he needed to keep up. Sally's brow continued to crease as if troubled by a thought. He worried he did not mask his misery well enough.  
  
She turned to him suddenly, though she did not break her stride. "May I ask you a question?" she said.  
  
"Of course," he replied, fearing what would follow.  
  
"That—that man at Midway," she began thoughtfully. "He called you something…Fro, Fron--"  
  
He smiled in relief and amusement. "Frodo," he replied.  
  
"That's it," Sally said, smiling in return.  
  
"That's my name," he told her.  
  
"Frodo," she repeated, feeling its shape and sound in her mouth. She felt warmth, familiarity…comfort. Without realizing it, her smile deepened. "It's unusual. Is it Dutch?"  
  
Frodo chuckled softly at her innocent question. "No, it's not," he replied. A touch of seriousness returned to his face as if he had just remembered something unpleasant. "It's…very old."  
  
Sally did not miss his change in tone. She had almost forgotten for a moment that he was not an ordinary man. Age and time to him was a concept of such grand scope that she could not possibly comprehend it. She blushed in slight embarrassment, feeling in her own way unworthy. "Can anyone call you that?" she asked quietly.  
  
He smiled again, reaching for her free hand. He squeezed it briefly and released it. "You may call me 'Frodo', Sally," he said. He looked ahead at the path before them, littered with people ignorant of their quest, oblivious to his burden. A great chill radiated from his shoulder. His old wound stretched the fingers of its deadly hand to encompass his body in pain, reminding him of its eternal presence. He had almost forgotten as he smiled and talked with Sally. For one brief moment he had been free of his torment. "I would like that very much."  
  
  
  
Merrick Brandenburg had a deep secret he had tried to keep from his friends: he was a hard worker. He wanted his life to continue much as it had in his college days. He couldn't exactly have endless parties anymore but he at least wanted everyone to believe that he did. As a programmer for a computer software company her found it easy to convince people that all he did all day was play games. If they only knew the hours he worked, if they only saw the complexity of his job, they would see him as a fraud. They might think instead that he was responsible. He feared responsibility more than anyone he knew. He just didn't know why.  
  
He came home just a few minutes shy of 7pm, much too late for a reasonable slacker. As he rounded the landing to his floor he saw that he had an uninvited guest. His friend Piper sat just outside his door with her back leaning against the frame.  
  
She had made having fun in the face of responsibility an art form. No one ever believed making comic books was real work. She never seemed to take anything seriously.  
  
Only once in his memory had she ever been a grown-up.  
  
Once, years ago, he had tried to kiss her. She had stopped him and said, "We weren't meant for that. We were meant for bigger things. We were meant to be friends for life." He didn't realize it then but he agreed with her. He had sensed something when he was around her, a feeling of acceptance and familiarity that he mistook for intimacy. But he learned that she was right. They were meant for bigger things. When all other friends drifted away, he and Piper and Sally remained constant.  
  
From her posture and demeanor he could tell that she had waited for a while. She had turned her full attention away from her magazine to him and smiled a greeting that seemed forced.  
  
"You should have seen me earlier, Mer," she said, pretending to brag. Piper was never the type of person to ever really boast. She had too much invested in finding herself to place false value on material things. Her hand reached into a bag from a gourmet coffee shop and came up with something small and covered in chocolate, which she quickly popped into her mouth. She continued to speak, forcing her words around her morsel. "I had a car, with a driver. He took me shopping. Guess what kind of day I had."  
  
"Stressful?" Merrick replied offering her a hand to pull her to her feet.  
  
She took his hand and in a movement that lacked all feminine grace she stood before him. She frowned at him, still chewing. "Why do you say that?" she asked.  
  
He pointed at the bag of chocolates she still clutched in her left hand. "Chocolate covered espresso beans," he replied knowingly. "The last time you ate those you had had a big fight with your printer."  
  
Her face and posture relaxed in defeat. She couldn't hide from him. He knew her too well. "My snack food of choice at the end of all things," she agreed with a shrug.  
  
"You going to tell me about it?" he asked with mild concern as he unlocked his door.  
  
Piper looked at him with eyes devoid of her usual humor. She seemed oddly spooked. "Let me in first," she answered quietly.  
  
He opened the door and she followed behind him into his apartment. As he retreated into his galley-styled kitchen, she sat on his couch. The surroundings of his small home comforted her in a way she had needed. Merrick possessed a natural gift for transforming any place into a soul- saving sanctuary. Without taking notice of her actions, she had closed her bag of chocolate-covered coffee beans.  
  
Merrick's voice rang out from the kitchen accompanied by the sound of glass bottles and popping bottle caps. "So what's happening in the world of sequential art?"  
  
He emerged with two dark brown bottles in his hands. He offered one to her and she took it gratefully. "It's not work related, Merrick," she said gravely. "It's Sally."  
  
His concern deepened considerably. Of the three of them, Sally was the least likely to get into trouble. "What's wrong with Sally?" he asked.  
  
Suddenly his telephone rang. In two quick steps he reached it and brought the receiver to his ear. "Hello?" he called in greeting.  
  
His face melted back into the worry of the moment before. He looked to Piper. "Sally?" he asked, "Where are you?…Going where?…Why not? Why can't you tell me?" He made his frustration apparent. His friend was faraway and she wouldn't tell him where. If she was in trouble he couldn't help her. "Yeah, Piper's here now."  
  
Piper squirmed at the mention of her name. She ached to hear the other side of the conversation. She already knew enough to be afraid.  
  
Merrick continued. His eyes seemed blind to his surroundings, staring through the table in front of him as he imagined himself facing Sally. "What?…Okay, I can do that. Just a second." His tone of voice had changed and he averted his attention back to Piper. He made a harried gesture, telling her he needed to make a note.  
  
Piper fumbled clumsily through her backpack to retrieve a pen and some paper. Merrick grabbed them both in a rush and said breathlessly into the phone, "Ready." She watched as he scribbled down number after number, each digit followed by a comma.  
  
Suddenly she understood. She had used their stupid, childish code from when they were kids to disguise the real numbers. She tried to signal to Merrick that she knew what to do with them but he waved her off.  
  
"When?" he asked the phone when he had finished the long line of numbers. He nodded vaguely and then asked, "How much?" His face drained of color at the answer. "Say that again…Sally, what kind of trouble are you in?"  
  
Piper imagined her friend's response. She had witnessed it herself earlier that day.  
  
Merrick forced calm into his voice. "Don't worry, Sally," he said. "I'll take care of it. Please, just be careful."  
  
  
  
Sally placed the air phone back into its cradle and leaned against the bulkhead wearily. Not wanting to worry about who might overhear her, she used the courtesy phone at the rear of the aircraft. She had watched all around her warily but no one roused her suspicions. She longed to return to her seat. Even its confined space promised at least some rest, albeit momentary. She needed a bed with pillows and blankets and solitude. What she desired more than sleep or safety was just the space to cry.  
  
She had placed the future of Shire Publishing into the hands of her friend and by doing so placed his life in jeopardy. She knew what was waiting for him in New York but in his anonymity he may slip through unnoticed. Who would the Nazgul follow? Merrick in New York? Or Piper, who so boldly volunteered to make that paper trail? Or would they find a way to follow the Ring?  
  
Sally had too much to think of and felt too tired to dwell on it. She would simply have to add those concerns to the growing list of things to cry about when she had the time.  
  
She opened her mouth wide and inhaled deeply. Her lungs expanded with air but seemed to crackle with pressure at the end of her breath. The plane wasn't nearly as stuffy as she imagined. She simply had trouble catching a good breath. She blew the last of her breath out in frustration. Tired or not, she could not lean against the bulkhead for her entire flight. Her inhaler was in her bag.  
  
Sally had hoped to find him asleep when she returned but what she saw brought new fear to her heart.  
  
Her employer sat stricken by some unknown malady. His eyes, half-closed, stared ahead but not blankly. He seemed to see things far away out of her sight and knowledge. His right hand gripped the armrest tightly in an effort to hold himself steady while his body shivered violently.  
  
Sally first reacted with a step backwards and her hand covered her mouth to keep herself from crying out. She quickly overcame her instant fear and reached out for him. He needed her and she would not fail him. She grasped his arm and held it tightly, crouching down beside him in the aisle. "Mr. Baggins?" she called timidly. "Sir, are you alright?"  
  
He did not react to her at all. Her hand came over the top of his. He felt cold to her touch. The icy feel of his skin seeped into her, intensifying her fear. "Frodo?"  
  
His head turned slightly, a flicker of a response. He turned his hand to hold hers. "Sam?" he whispered blindly.  
  
She shook her head though she knew he could not see her. "It's Sally, Sir," she choked. Her throat had become thick with the effort of holding back her emotions.  
  
She could not tell if he had heard her. He did not seem to be really with her as if his body had begun to fail and his spirit tried to flee. "I can't feel my arm," he said in a strangled breath. For the first time, Sally noticed that his left arm laid in a peculiar fashion. His arm had turned outward with his palm facing up. Even as tremor after tremor wracked his body, his left arm did not move. Death seemed to have already touched him here.  
  
"It will never heal," he added in a despair that would torment her for eternity. Tears welled in her eyes. She could hold them back no longer. Fear and confusion gave way to great sadness. She reached up and with great tenderness stroked his cheek. He barely stirred beneath her touch.  
  
Then suddenly, she came to her senses. Sally shook her head to rid herself of her helplessness. She looked around the cabin, almost coming to her feet, to search the faces of the people around her. "I'm going to get you a doctor," she declared.  
  
Through his thick fog of pain and despair, Frodo heard her. He had felt her touch upon his face and her presence gave him the strength to pull himself to the surface of consciousness. He used every bit of his will to force himself to respond. He turned his clouded eyes to face her and tugged on her hand to pull her back down to him. "No, Sally," he struggled to say, swallowing hard from the effort. "A doctor can't help me."  
  
She looked at him in disbelief. He appeared to be dying right before her eyes. The only help she thought she could provide, he denied her. "I have to do something!" she cried.  
  
Frodo sank deeper into his seat, exhausted from the simple effort of speaking. His eyes closed. "This is beyond them," he breathed.  
  
Sally became vaguely aware that her tragedy had not gone unnoticed among the other passengers. From what seemed like a far distance, she heard a man tell a flight attendant they needed a doctor. Frodo had reasons he hid himself away from others so obsessively. He did not want a doctor. A doctor would examine him very closely. Some things about him needed to remain undiscovered. "What about the Ring? Can it help you?" she whispered close to his ear.  
  
Frodo shook his head roughly. "No, not the Ring. I can't use it again."  
  
Her tears ran freely now, fueled by frustration. With each passing moment he slipped farther and farther away from her. She clung to his hand as if she were holding him from death itself. "Tell me what to do!" she cried in desperation.  
  
He roused himself again, opening his eyes. He seemed to look right through her. "Only elf medicine can ease my suffering now," he whispered.  
  
He drove her to the edge of madness with his answers. If she weren't so terrified that she was losing him, she would shake him hard and tell him so. "We're 35,000 feet over the Atlantic ocean," she said through her tears. "Where am I supposed to find an elf?"  
  
Frodo closed his eyes again but managed an answer. "Try first class."  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
Chapter 6: "A Glamour Unmasked" –Sally has a fight to reach first class but when she does she finds elves don't always live up to her expectations. Also, Piper and Merrick argue about who is going to New York.  
  
Thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Email me if you want to be notified of updates. I will try to get something up within the next week. 


	6. Many Arguments

Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter One. This chapter contains some direct quotes from "The Fellowship of the Ring" and "The Two Towers".  
  
  
  
"Hostile Takeover": Chapter Six—Many Arguments  
  
Sally's heart beat so hard against her chest, she felt certain everyone around her could hear it. She had reached the curtain separating first class from coach. Her hand reached up to draw it open but a nasally male voice spoke suddenly behind her, startling her to a stop.  
  
"That area is reserved for first class," the flight attendant announced with authoritative pride. "Please return to your seat, ma'am."  
  
Sally turned to face him and forced a polite smile onto her face. Her patience had grown thin and she had to fight the urge to hit him. "I need to see someone up there," she said innocently.  
  
The thin male attendant wearing the smart little clip-on tie, stepped around her to insinuate himself between her and the first class compartment. "Not without a first class ticket," he said scolding. He sported a smile that showed how much he enjoyed his position of power over her.  
  
"Look," Sally began to explain with considerable strain in her voice, "my friend is very sick and the only—"  
  
"We know," he answered with artificial compassion. "We're getting him a doctor." He took hold of her arm to steer her back to her seat. "Now, please."  
  
A fire lit within Sally and she ripped her arm out of his grasp. "He doesn't need a doctor!" she cried in anger. She stepped forward only inches away from his face. Only a sliver of self-control stood between her and an act of violence that would get her through that curtain. Nothing mattered more to her now than helping Frodo.  
  
The attendant's face flashed with a fear that his voice would not admit. "Ma'am, if you don't calm down, we can have you placed in restraints."  
  
"Restraints!!" she roared. In her fury the warning transformed into an insult. "You mean place me under arrest! I'm not a criminal! My master needs help!"  
  
Suddenly a pair of arms came around her, pinning her fists at her sides. She threw her weight against the unseen foe behind her, kicking her feet into the air to lash out at the man in front of her. Anger and desperation gave her a strength of spirit she had never known. She opened herself to it willingly and it flowed through her to give new power to her voice. "Gilthoniel A Elbereth! A Elbereth Gilthoniel o menel palan-diriel, le nallon si di'nguruthos! A tiro nin, Fanuilos!"  
  
The ancient words erupted from her so unexpectedly the struggle came to a stop. Sally seemed only barely aware that she had uttered them. On her knees she panted for breath and watched as the flight attendant before her pulled something small from his pocket. She winced as she recognized the canister of pepper spray. He raised it level with her face.  
  
A slender white arm came over the top of his, forcing him to relax his aim. Sally followed the line of the arm up to a beautifully proportioned angular face, framed by a mane of perfect chestnut hair. She recognized the woman immediately. In fact, she had seen her grace the cover of over a dozen fashion magazines in the last two months alone. Her strangely accented voice spoke coquettishly to the man who threatened her. "Got a problem here, Garcon?" she asked.  
  
He looked up at the tall beauty and swallowed hard in disbelief. "N-no, Ms. Owen," he stammered as he stuffed the pepper spray back into his pocket. "I, uh, this woman--" He gestured to Sally with embarrassment but she would hear none of his attempts to explain.  
  
"Has made a big fuss to see me. Well, here I am," she interrupted, drawing her face close to his. He shook visibly as her breath fell softly upon his face. She was extremely aware of the effect she had on him. "I'm sure someone on board needs a beverage or something. Why don't you serve it to them."  
  
Before her words even registered in his brain, he found himself nodding. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered. "Of course, I'm sorry."  
  
Sally had watched this scene in incredulous silence. The thin, nasal- voiced man with the clip-on tie simply walked past her, taking with him the attendant who had grabbed her. Her violent behavior had simply been dismissed. They had forgotten her, left her behind with the model.  
  
They left her alone with an elf.  
  
The elf looked down at her with disdain. "You've got some mouth on you," she said offering Sally no help to get to her feet.  
  
Sally struggled to stand, getting little cooperation from her muscles still stiff from the scuffle. She looked at the beautiful elf and couldn't help but feel slightly offended by her tone. "Excuse me?" she asked, hoping she had simply misunderstood.  
  
Her expression did not change. She seemed in someway disappointed, as if Sally didn't quite live up to her expectations. "Not everyone on this floating dirtball can say those words. You just screamed them," she said accusingly. "You wanted my attention. You've got it."  
  
Sally sniffled but she wore a determined expression. She gave little thought to what had come over her. The words she spoke and where they came from meant nothing to her. Only the result mattered. She would get him help first and deal with her own problems when she had time. She only wished that she could have a better choice of rescuer. Mr. Baggins deserved a better savior than this rude elf. "My friend is very sick," she told her.  
  
The elf rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Who's your friend?"  
  
Sally set her jaw and replied, "Frodo Baggins."  
  
If the elf had any color in her face, it all drained away at the mention of that name. She stepped forward and grabbed Sally by the shoulders and pulled her close to her face roughly. "The Ringbearer? Here?" she demanded. She didn't seem ready to believe her but she had reason to pause. Something said earlier replayed in her mind. This strange encounter began to make sense. "Wait…what is today?" she asked suddenly.  
  
Sally blinked at the question. "Uh, Monday? October 6th," she stammered.  
  
She shook her head and snorted softly. "And he chose today of all days to get on a plane," she muttered derisively. "Still, it should be a small matter for He who holds the One Ring."  
  
"He refuses to use it," Sally said gravely.  
  
For the first time the elf's grip loosened. For the first time her façade of superiority slipped. In one small moment, her face looked youthful and full of hope. "Then he means to do it," she said quietly. "He's finally going to destroy it."  
  
"That's why we're on this plane," Sally stated.  
  
The elf let go of her, dropping her arms to her sides and looking away. She seemed somewhat softer. From shame, or fear, or compassion, Sally couldn't tell, but she finally uttered the words she'd been fighting for. "Go get him."  
  
  
  
Merrick sat across from Piper just trying to comprehend the last ten minutes of his life. Sally had spoken for a vast majority of their conversation but very little of what she said made sense. He knew he had to go to a bank in New York City and transfer an unbelievably large amount of money from one account to another. He had to do this because she couldn't. She couldn't because she was on a plane flying to a destination she wouldn't tell him. She wouldn't tell him because…Why? She seemed to be afraid. She was paranoid enough to place the account numbers in their childhood code. Was she running away from something or to something else?  
  
He glanced up at his friend. Piper saw her. She had to know more than he did. Something made her buy those stupid chocolate covered espresso beans. Merrick rubbed his eyes wearily with his knuckles. "What did she say when you saw her?" he asked.  
  
"That someone's after them," she replied ominously.  
  
"After them?" he repeated. The idea that any of them could find this sort of danger was too improbable for him to fully believe. She had to have help getting in this mess. "You mean after him. Sally's boss is in trouble and he's getting her mixed up in this," he said with a quick rage that brought him to his feet. He began to pace the small space of his apartment.  
  
Piper leaned forward and tried to catch his arm as he stepped away from her. "It's not like that, Merrick," she said earnestly. "They're not being chased by cops or the mob or anything like that. It's different…" Her words faded to a stop. She was beginning to hate this feeling. She couldn't have the ignorant bliss of jumping to conclusions like he did. She knew things but couldn't express them. Any explanation of what she believed would make her sound insane.  
  
"Different? How different?" he asked. He turned to say something to show his frustration at all of this but he halted. His anger didn't find expression. It turned to concern as he saw his friend's face.  
  
Piper was crying.  
  
He came to her then, crouching down in front of her and taking her hands into his. "What happened today, Piper?" he asked.  
  
"I met him," she said with a quavering breath. "I met him and I knew him." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her tears flowed freely as she remembered her meeting in the car. She touched her forehead to Merrick's, for support, for comfort, for the hope that he would understand what she struggled to describe. "It was like when we first met, you know? Except it was different. When I met you, it was happy times."  
  
"And it wasn't when you met him?" he asked softly.  
  
She shook her head. "It's not, but it should be," she replied. She squeezed his hands tightly, almost shaking them. "I felt like I missed him, Merrick. That WE have missed him. You know the feeling when you and me and Sally get together. You know the one. That someone's not there who should be." She reached up and took his face, turning it up towards hers so that their eyes locked. She wanted him to know how deeply this affected her. She wanted him to believe. "I knew when I saw him. He's the missing part of us."  
  
Merrick looked at her for a long moment just letting her words sink in. He didn't want to admit it but he understood her. A strange, intangible sadness had intruded upon every happy occasion, darkening their smiles, dampening their laughter. But none of them ever spoke of it aloud. They just couldn't find the words.  
  
But he wasn't quite ready to give in to Piper's claims. He wanted something more concrete, something he could see with his own eyes. "You're crazy, Piper," he said gently. He stood up and leaned over to kiss her affectionately on the forehead. "I love you, but you're crazy."  
  
"I'm not alone on this," Piper responded in quiet defiance. "Sally's not being forced to go with him. She'd jump down a dragon's throat to save him."  
  
A silence descended upon them. Piper began to shake as she realized what she had just said.  
  
Merrick could not deny the familiarity of the statement. He looked to his friend but in the depth of the moment she did not seem to fit. Her hair, her clothes, even her face was out of place. His eyes clouded with the image of another time, another home, not his, but a place where he was no less welcome. A warm sense of camaraderie filled his heart. A voice echoed in his mind, high and soft, speaking words of comfort. 'Of course we understand. That is why we have decided to come.' His voice…? He had a scent of how it was meant to be but he could not grasp it. He wasn't ready for it.  
  
"Piper?" he called timidly, trying to anchor himself in the present.  
  
"I was scared today," she continued, unaware of his internal struggle, "but if they'd asked me to come I would have. In my heart I would have begged them to take me with them."  
  
"Or followed them like hounds," Merrick breathed in a hoarse whisper. He turned to face her again. He finally understood. "A punishment for any of us to be left behind." But that was what had happened.  
  
Sally had left them behind and they could not follow. A punishment almost too much to bear.  
  
Piper sighed heavily and leaned back into the couch. "At least we've been given something to do so we don't feel so helpless," she said.  
  
Merrick smiled wryly. "Who said anything about 'we'? Sally asked me to go to New York. Not you." He didn't intend for his words to sound cruel. Something strange was happening that filled him with fear. Sally had placed herself out of his reach. He wouldn't let Piper go even if it was to New York City with him. He could feel the danger now and he had to keep her safe if he could.  
  
Piper looked as if she had been slapped. Merrick's task was her only hope to be a part. She would not sit by and simply wait to see how this turned out. She wanted her own tale to tell. "We ought to stick together, and we will. I'm going, unless you chain me up. There's got to be someone with intelligence there." She let the old words flow through her.  
  
"Then it's certainly not going to be you, Piper Tune," Merrick replied chidingly. "Sally called me for a reason." He had turned towards his bedroom. He knew Piper could argue about this all night and he simply had little energy to fight back. He knew she was right. If he stayed any longer he would have to admit it.  
  
Piper followed behind him. "Yeah, because you have the better wardrobe," she retorted. "I can buy nicer clothes you know."  
  
"Fine," Merrick replied wearily at the threshold of his bedroom. "Then you go shopping. I'm going to New York." He shut the door, leaving Piper alone.  
  
She raised her hand to the doorknob, daring herself to go in. When she heard the click of the lock she knew her challenge was moot. She stood fuming, with her only target a faceless closed door. "Don't even think I'm letting you go without me!" she yelled at him. She returned to the couch staring back at his bedroom door. "I'm going to watch you like a hawk, Merrick Brandenburg! When you go, I go!"  
  
TBC  
  
Author's Note: I did it again. I overestimated what was going to fit in my chapter and so my chapter title changed. As an answer to one of Ron's Girl's questions, Sally will realize who she is, but of the three of them, her acceptance of it will be the most difficult. Working this out as I planned future chapters is what led to my writer's block problem. As for your other question, I'm not going to answer that.  
  
The elf featured in this chapter and the next is a tribute to all my faithful "On the Beach" fans. Thank you for giving me the courage to write.  
  
Chapter 7: "A Glamour Unmasked": We learn more about Frodo's "savior" and Frodo himself, as she heals him. Also, the plane lands but in what country? I bet it's not the one your expecting it to be. 


	7. A Glamour Unmasked

Disclaimer is the same as in Chapter One.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Seven: A Glamour Unmasked  
  
Sally winced with every step she took. She bore as much of his weight as her body would take but still he had to move his own feet along the narrow aisle of the plane. She held tightly to him willing her arms not to break and her muscles not to tear as she dragged him to the first class compartment of the plane.  
  
Frodo's head lolled forward from her shoulder and his knees buckled underneath him. She stumbled as his body lurched forward but miraculously she managed to keep him from falling. Only when they crossed the curtain barrier did the elf come forward to help her deliver him to a seat.  
  
The armrest jarred his left arm as he settled and he cried out in pain. The elf stooped over him examining him with worry.  
  
Frodo opened his eyes to her fully, revealing his suffering. Her voice fell upon his ears like birdsong with a purity so sweet he began to weep. His pain ebbed away as his senses lulled him with dreams of comfort. He could almost believe that he was somewhere else entirely. He could feel the sand beneath his feet and the wind caress his hair.  
  
The elf herself appeared before him as a vision of loveliness, recalling to him a time and place he had never known. She sang to him with healing words, a voice meant only for his ears.  
  
She cupped his face in her hands and gently wiped his tears away. "We see each other unveiled little Ringbearer," she said. "I only wish I could remember myself as you see me." She spoke bittersweetly as one who longed to linger in this moment of truth.  
  
Sally watched anxiously as the elf tended to her ailing employer. She heard fragments of whispered words and saw his eyes look to the other with longing. She could see the pain transform his face to an expression of profound sadness. What did he see in her eyes and hear in her voice that rendered him so?  
  
"Why is he like this?" she asked, finding her voice at last.  
  
The elf did not look away from Frodo. She attended him with such care and tenderness that she almost lost the awareness of the world around her. She almost didn't hear Sally's question. "He is wounded," she answered.  
  
Sally gasped softly. "Wounded? How? I've been with him all day."  
  
"Not today, girl," she snapped with annoyance. She seemed cross as one awakened from a pleasant dream. Her scowls relaxed as she realized Sally's interruption was not intentional. "This wound marred his flesh nearly a century before I was even born," she explained in a much gentler tone.  
  
The elf reached for the buttons of Frodo's shirt. With a light touch her fingertips released their hold. She leaned her head down to him and said with great reverence, "Forgive this intrusion. Your companion should see this."  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and turned his head away from them. Almost imperceptibly he nodded. He could not bear to see their pity or the wound itself but he would not deny it to them.  
  
"He was pierced by a Morgul blade," the elf explained. She pulled the collar of his shirt back to reveal the flesh of his left shoulder. Sally leaned over him and saw the mark, angry and red. A wound that would never heal. Sally reached down to him. She wanted to touch his scar, feel it against her fingers but she found herself instead closing his shirt. She could not grant him peace but she could at least give him back his dignity.  
  
"The evil contained in such a weapon was so great, it has scarred his soul as well as his body," the elf continued. "Its mark can be seen even through the glamour."  
  
"Glamour?" Sally echoed, looking to her with horror. She thought back to the umbrella. 'It is still what it is but…' Who was Frodo beneath his glamour? What did he hide from the world? From her?  
  
The elf chuckled softly, wickedly, amused by Sally's obvious naiveté. "Did you honestly think this is what he looked like? He's not even human." She shook her head derisively as Sally paled.  
  
Sally took a faltering step backwards reeling from the chaos cast in her mind. He may not have chosen to deceive her but that did not make her discovery any easier to bear. She had already seen and heard too much. She wanted to run but her feet would not obey. She wanted to cry but she remained silent.  
  
With great effort Frodo turned his head to face her. He wore an expression full of sympathy for all that she had experienced by his side. He would not make her stay. He would not ask her to. Lacking the strength to speak he silently implored her to simply forgive him.  
  
Sally's moment of indecision passed faster than her breath passed her lips. The elf's mocking laughter did not matter. Neither did his true form hidden beneath a cast of glamour. She answered a calling that intertwined her soul with his fate. She would not leave him. Only hell itself could tear them apart.  
  
Frodo took hold of the elf's hand, drawing her attention to him. He pulled her close, bringing her ear near his mouth. As he whispered to her, her expression shifted from bemusement to something curious that Sally could not decipher.  
  
Though she would often wonder, Sally would never learn what he told the elf. Whatever he had said, his words had a remarkable result. When the elf turned back to her, she had a new understanding and a subtle respect. "I'm sorry," she said with sincerity. "For too long I have taken people at face value. I forgot there is sometimes more to us than we see."  
  
Sally said nothing to the apology but nodded in acknowledgement. Her concern remained with Frodo who had finally closed his eyes. For the first time since she had discovered him ill, he seemed to be at rest. "Will he be alright?" she asked quietly.  
  
"He'll rest now," the elf answered. She watched him with gentle care as she left his side and settled into the seat across the aisle. She glanced momentarily at her wristwatch. "You'll see him well by the time we land. You're welcome to stay up here with him," she invited, indicating the vacant seat next to him.  
  
Sally smiled in gratitude but did not take the seat. She remained on her feet in the aisle as if standing watch over her sleeping employer. "Thank you," she replied, extending her hand to the elf. The thought had occurred to her that politeness would be easier with introductions. "My name is Sally. Sally Gamble."  
  
The elf accepted her handshake and squeezed it with genuine warmth. "Well met, Sally," she said. "I am known to other elves as Enaiowen." She grew quiet for a long moment turning in her seat to face the resting Ringbearer. She appeared wistful, holding court to tender thoughts she would not share. "You wouldn't know it, seeing him as he sleeps, but he holds the fate of the world in his pocket," she whispered softly, almost to herself.  
  
Frodo turned his head, settling himself deeper into his seat. His passive form belied a great power within. "He knows," Sally breathed in reply.  
  
Enaiowen reached across the aisle to brush a wayward lock of hair from his forehead. Her reach fell unexpectedly short and his hair remained untouched. Her hand hovered towards him, still reaching. "I have not met him til today," she said sadly. "In another world he and I could have become companions. He would be different and I would…" Her words faltered. Her outstretched hand returned to her and she looked away. Whatever she was reaching for, was unattainable. "I would not be on this plane."  
  
Sally did not understand the meaning behind Enaiowen's words but the emotions were plain to see. The elf desired her path to be different. This realization was difficult for her to take.  
  
"I'm going to get our bags," Sally heard herself saying, excusing herself from the presence of the now brooding elf.  
  
Enaiowen felt grateful for Sally's absence. It gave her the moment she needed to shake away the ghosts that haunted her on that plane. She had never felt the call of the Undying Lands before but she longed to 'sail west' as she flew east. From the moment she touched the Ringbearer her mind flooded with thoughts of the Blessed Realm, and a beach that she might once call home.  
  
"Enaiowen," Frodo called her name suddenly in a voice that had not quite found itself.  
  
The elf snapped herself from her reverie and wiped absentmindedly at her eyes. "Try to rest, Frodo," she instructed him tenderly.  
  
He did not move, nor did he open his eyes. He only had the illusion of sleep as he spoke only for her ears. "Your mother is a seer," he stated.  
  
"That is true," Enaiowen confirmed.  
  
Frodo took a shuddering breath and turned to look at her with an unreadable expression. "In this other world, did I destroy the Ring?" he asked.  
  
"I cannot answer that," she said with a heavy sigh. "This is not that world, Frodo. What happened there should hold no sway over your decision here." She watched him carefully and saw him tense. He was not satisfied with her answer but she could offer nothing better.  
  
"If I told you that you destroyed it and you lived happily ever after, what could it change? Except to give you new tools with which to torture yourself," she continued in harsh whispers. "Even if I knew, I would not say. You know what is the right thing to do."  
  
"Do I?" he asked unhappily. In two small words he questioned the whole of his existence.  
  
Enaiowen smiled weakly, knowing her words would bring little comfort. "You always did."  
  
---  
  
"Sally?" a voice called softly to her pulling her from the edges of a dream she could not hold in her memory. She blinked her eyes open to find Frodo standing over her, smiling warmly. "I wish I could let you sleep but the plane has landed," he said.  
  
Sally looked around her and yawned. She had forgotten she was on a plane and the realization caused her mind to stumble. When she had returned from retrieving their bags she had had no intention of falling asleep. She simply wanted to wait for her employer to recover. Her exhaustion had tricked her into closing her eyes longer than the moment she promised herself.  
  
She turned back to Frodo with sudden wonder. "You look better," she remarked. Her face could not conceal her joy although muted with concern for lingering effects.  
  
His smile broadened. Any traces of his ailment had vanished. He had the appearance of a man who had never known illness in his life making Sally wonder again about the power of glamour. "I am," he stated with confidence. "Thanks to you and Enai."  
  
The name struck Sally like a sour note. Locked in the security of her slumber, she had nearly forgotten about the elf, but she saw with chagrin that Enaiowen was not just a bad memory. Despite the gratitude she felt for healing Frodo, Sally did not like her. The thought that the two of them talked while she slept made her even more unhappy. "Enai?" she said with raised eyebrows. His truncation of her name was too much of a familiarity.  
  
The utterance of her name served as the elf's summoning. She appeared at Frodo's other side with the same condescending look Sally first saw her wear. "Come, little one," she called to Sally mockingly. "This part of your journey has ended."  
  
Sally and Frodo followed Enaiowen across the enclosed bridge connecting the plane to the airport. The elf looked back behind her with a watchful expression that caused Sally to frown. "You don't like me much, do you?" she asked finally.  
  
Sally's brow furrowed deeper. She hadn't meant to be so transparent. "You didn't make the best first impression," she admitted.  
  
Enaiowen stopped as they emerged into the airport. "I know and I'm sorry," she said quietly. She surveyed the people around her thoughtfully. So many of them happy to be where they were while she was not. Like Frodo she'd spent her life hiding from the world. The only difference being that she hid herself in plain sight. "Most elves stay at the fringes, coming in and out of the light, becoming the stuff of legends and dreams. Not me," she asserted sadly. "I've immersed myself, embracing the totality of this place. I thought I could keep myself and take in the world too, but I know better now." Tears now ran unhindered down her face. "If you live in this world, its darkness becomes a part of you."  
  
"Why are you telling me this?" Sally asked.  
  
"Because each of us has a destiny and before I meet mine, I wanted you to know I'm not supposed to be like this," she said. She spoke with a gravity Sally would have believed impossible for her. Enaiowen shook from the effort of keeping her emotions from overcoming her. She reached for Sally's hand and clutched it close to her. "I was supposed to bring light to his eyes and yours, someone you'd wait for."  
  
"Enai?" Frodo called to her with concern. Her desperate tone frightened him.  
  
Enaiowen turned her reddened eyes to him and smile weakly. "You were right about my mother, Frodo. She saw many things," she said. "I was on that plane for a reason."  
  
Frodo swallowed and stepped closed to her. "What was that?"  
  
Enaiowen released Sally's hand and reached for him. Instead of taking his hand, she pushed his coat open gently and grasped the handle of the umbrella. "To lay down my life for you," she whispered. Her eyes locked with his as she pulled the umbrella away from him. She was saying good- bye.  
  
And then they heard the screams, shrill and inhuman.  
  
The Nazgul had beaten them to Oslo.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: I bet you didn't expect me to take them to Norway. I struggled with this decision for quite a while. New Zealand seemed too obvious, as did Great Britain. I considered Ireland for a while until I got a book on world mythology. So much of Norse mythology reminded me of LOTR, especially the whole "Ring of the Nibelung" thing, so I decided to take them to Norway. (  
  
I can't remember if I have any questions to answer but I do want to assert to my readers and reviewers that if it hadn't occurred to you that Sally, Piper and Merrick are reincarnations YOU ARE NOT STUPID. Heck, they haven't even figured it out…yet. I adore each and every one of you who takes the time to read my story. Your reviews have given me the inspiration I need to keep to work on this.  
  
Chapter 8: A Knife in the Airport. Frodo and Sally flee as Enaiowen fights the Nazgul and Merrick struggles with his inner hobbit about his decision to leave Piper behind. 


	8. A Knife in the Airport

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Eight: A Knife in the Airport  
  
  
  
Sally felt a whimpering cry erupt from her throat as Frodo tugged on her arm to pull her away. Although the sight of the men in black suits paralyzed her with fear, she hesitated more from her sudden desire to help Enaiowen.  
  
The elf raised the umbrella before her and Sally could see the glamour flicker in her hands. The sword that it was flashed into view and then just as suddenly resolved itself to becoming an umbrella again. But Sally saw it long enough to realized that the weapon was far too small to provide proper protection.  
  
The men in black approached the elf with purposeful, menacing steps. They held their hands up in front of them as if they clutched weapons of their own that Sally could not see. She tried to step forward, moved by the impossible odds against their champion, but Frodo would not let her go.  
  
His eyes held the same fear that ruled her. "We have to run, Sally," he said, pulling her after him. "We have to get away."  
  
"But they're going to kill her!" she cried. She knew that by staying she could not make the situation better. She was no warrior, but she could not let someone die in her place. She struggled against his hold on her as she fought back her overwhelming sense of helplessness.  
  
Frodo pulled her close to him, holding her tightly against his chest. He knew her thoughts, her feelings, because he shared them just as intensely. "If we stay, they may kill us too," he said into her ear. "Then Saruman will get the Ring."  
  
In his arms, he felt her relax. She would not struggle anymore. She looked up at him defeatedly and he finally led her away.  
  
Sally did not look back as they ran. Her last view of Enaiowen was of her alive, strong and heroic. But the sound of metal clashing against metal that faded in the distance would haunt her till her last breath.  
  
Enaiowen smiled inwardly to see them go at last. She finally could face their pursuers without the worry of protecting them. Unfortunately her chances of defeating them did not improve. She faced four of the Nazgul alone.  
  
They fanned out around her. She saw their intentions immediately. Two would fight her, while two would continue the pursuit. Her eyes raced over the concourse in a maddening search to find something, anything to aid her.  
  
Nearly fifty feet away a man looking through a window to the runways below, had just lit a cigarette. Her power was dry, stiff like an unused muscle but she stretched to make it work. She reached out to the flame dying at the end of the match and whispered words of encouragement to grant them new life and purpose.  
  
Of all the elements, fire is the hungriest. It is the most often harnessed for its power and very seldom allowed to exist freely. When given full rein, it lives passionately, consuming all it can. It answered her summons willingly and sprang from the discarded match to a small trash bin. Within a second, it ignited and fed off of the refuse. It used its new strength to escape the bin, spilling the contents across the floor.  
  
Now released, the fire grew impossibly high, forming a barrier behind Enaiowen. The Nazguls' path to follow Frodo and the Ring was blocked. She smiled at her accomplishment feeling the blood of her people rush through her veins. Hidden amongst humanity for decades she had lost sight of who she was. Covered in the shadowed glamour she wore, she had forgotten. Only now under the glare of fluorescent lights did she find herself. So close to the end with a deadly foe in front of her and a raging fire behind did she remember. She was an elf.  
  
With no way to get around her, the Nazgul descended upon her. In the physical world their weapons were invisible, but she knew the swords they held. She could feel the chill of evil that surrounded them. She blocked their blows as best as she could with Frodo's Sting but she could only manage a bare defense. She had no shield and the blade she held was too small to mount a suitable offense. Anything she did would only delay them. Any sword she held would never be enough. In this life she had only one choice.  
  
She let Sting drop to the floor. It was too fine to be wasted in the flesh of a Ringwraith and she would not need it any longer.  
  
The Nazgul seemed to hiss in delight at her apparent surrender. One stepped forward to take the advantage. Even as his sword penetrated her abdomen he did not see the danger. To stab her only brought him within her grasp. She took hold of the collar of his suit coat and dragged him with her into the waiting fire.  
  
His screams filled the air while his body fed the flames. People who came upon this sight were drawn to its horror. Some had witnessed its beginning but the sight had seemed too ludicrous to do anything but watch. A beautiful woman swinging an umbrella like a sword at four unarmed men wearing black. How does someone stop that?  
  
A fire rose out of nothingness to engulf them in flames. The scene lost its humor for the audience and begged for someone to stop it.  
  
Enaiowen rode through waves of pain clutching the Nazgul in a steel grip that would not yield. She did not dread the sensation for she knew that as long as she felt, she still lived. Through the shrieks of the dying Nazgul she could sense the humans coming to save them. Naïve, blind, slow-minded humans. Past blistered lips she called the fire to swell. She hoped to trap the other three Ringwraiths and keep the humans at bay.  
  
But she never knew if she succeeded.  
  
Her sight was the first to leave her. The rest of her physical world followed in kind. She knew nothing of pain or living or dying. Her task was done. Her destiny complete. All that remained of Enaiowen the elf opened her eyes on a distant beach. Her books in hand she smiled at the sun hours before it would set. It was her favorite time of day in her favorite place in the whole world. Her heart swelled with anticipation. Soon her teacher would come and begin the day's lesson.  
  
She was home.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
It was 5:22 a.m. when Merrick finally emerged from his bedroom. A softly murmuring television lit his apartment in a muted blue glow and the only other sound was the steady ticking of a wall clock. He had taken every care not to make noise as he prepared to leave. He knew Piper's stubbornness as well as he knew his own. To see her still on his couch did not surprise him. To find her asleep was what he had hoped for.  
  
She had curled up on her side with her arms folded tightly across her chest. She looked cold and Merrick fought back the brotherly impulse to cover her. He did not want to wake her. If he woke her, he would find it harder to leave her behind.  
  
That decision had already become too difficult to make. He had hoped that sleep would clear his thoughts. As he stood over her sleeping form on the verge of his departure he only felt more conflicted.  
  
She frowned unhappily in her sleep finding something disturbing in her dreams. Merrick's dreams brought him little peace either, only images which made no sense in the waking world. An army of men on horseback bearing arms and himself before a proud, white-haired king in glimmering armor. All that remained of the dream in him was a feeling intense and bitter.  
  
The feeling of being left behind.  
  
Piper would have that feeling when she would awaken and find him gone without her.  
  
He reached out to shake her shoulder, to wake her and say, "Come on, Pip. Time to go." But he stopped himself.  
  
His first decision was the right one. Keep her here to keep her safe. He stepped away from her towards his door. He hoped she would understand.  
  
He pulled the door shut with a soft click. He didn't even say good-bye.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
Sally's first day in Norway had been a blur of transportation and smatterings of conversations in Nynorsk. She understood nothing that was said and didn't know where they were going. She followed Frodo silently like a shadow. She would met no one's gaze and often glanced behind her fearfully to reassure herself that nothing followed them.  
  
Frodo watched her with worried eyes. Her mind seemed so far away. He didn't know quite how to reach her or even if he should. She appeared so fragile, not like what he ever expected. He knew he was to blame. He pushed too much of the quest on her too quickly. She was not ready to take up her role. He felt selfish for expecting her to.  
  
On the train from Oslo to Andalsnes they sat alone in a compartment leaning against one another for support. Sleep would come to neither of them.  
  
From beneath the sound of the steel on the tracks, Sally's voice stirred. "Frodo," she asked quietly, hesitantly, "what are you?"  
  
That question must have dominated her thoughts throughout her silence. Her other questions did not come with providable answers. Frodo didn't want to imagine what she might conjure his true form to be. He had not even thought of that part of himself for a long time. "I am nothing terrible," he answered her simply. He was not ashamed. There were other reasons to hide himself.  
  
"I know that," she replied. Her voice still sounded quiet, almost timid.  
  
Frodo shook his head and sighed heavily. "You only know what Enaiowen said and –  
  
"No," Sally said forcefully, "I know." She pulled away form him, turning to face him. For the first time since they left the airport she looked him in the eyes.  
  
What he saw, spoke of new torments, personal ones. "Sally?" he called to her with concern.  
  
"I don't know what is wrong with me," she said through trembling lips. She was on the verge of tears. She passed shaking hands over her paling face. "I know things I shouldn't. I'm remembering things that never happened to me." Since the moment they left Enaiowen, Sally could not fight back the feeling that she had done that before. Her mind flashed with images of a dark cave and a monster made of fire. She had left someone behind there. Someone who died in her place.  
  
It wasn't her. She wanted to believe it was a dream but she couldn't explain how real it all felt. She couldn't dismiss all the other things that defied explanation. "What if I'm losing my mind?" she asked.  
  
Frodo reached up and touched her cheek. This tender contact released the tears she had held back. He understood. "Sally, I promise you, you're not losing your mind."  
  
A sob escaped her. "I just don't want to fail you," she cried.  
  
Of all the things she could have said he had not expected that. He felt his own tears well up to join hers. "You won't," he said, taking her hands into his. "You couldn't."  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: Lorraine (and any others who may be lurking), if you want to know when I update, send me your email address and I will be more than happy to let you know. Otherwise, I try to put up a chapter once a week, household catastrophe and child illness notwithstanding. Just do an author's search for my name. I'm the only "acorngirl" here.(  
  
Also, I do plan to write a sequel to "On the Beach" as well as finish the prequel "Visions of Blood and Fire". I just need to get "Hostile Takeover" out of my system and completed. I am happy with how it has gone so far and I have much bigger, cooler stuff in store for all you great readers. I just wish I had more time to write more. Thank you again for your support. You keep me going and make me better.  
  
Chapter Nine: "Fog on the Morning After" – Sally begins to lose herself more and warnings of a spirit coming after her don't help. Also, Piper wakes up and finds Merrick gone but she finds an unlikely ally to get her to New York. 


	9. Fog on the Morning After

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Nine: Fog on the Morning After  
  
  
  
Sally shut the door to her room and threw herself upon the bed. All the grief and all the weariness pored out of her in deep, heaving sobs.  
  
Although she couldn't hear him, she knew Frodo stood outside her door. If she let him in he might have words of comfort, some statement of logic that would show her they did the right thing. He might say nothing and simply let her cry, but even that was more comfort than she wanted. She only wanted to let the tears fall.  
  
She didn't want to feel better. She didn't want the truth. She had already had enough of that. She wanted to delude herself again with pleasant fantasies that all was well but she couldn't shut out the image she had seen.  
  
They did not know her true name but the world knew Enaiowen's fate. News of the fashion model's tragic death had circuited the globe to grace newspapers and television screens alike. Sally and Frodo learned of her death from a British news report as they arrived at a bed and breakfast in Andalsnes. Sally watched in stunned silence as a news reporter described it as a 'freak accident'. A fire in a trash bin grew out of control before emergency workers could reach the scene. No one knew why she was in the fire. Only that it claimed her life.  
  
Sally knew and the secret tore at her with grievous guilt. She thought of nothing else until her tears dragged her into a fitful, restless sleep.  
  
* * *  
  
Grigor Grigorovitch Kaplik sat in the Shire Publishing company car watching the revolving door of the apartment building where he had dropped off his charge the previous evening. He glanced down at his watch and took a long drink of hot coffee from a Styrofoam cup. The time was 8:42 a.m. Mr. Baggins never made him wait this long.  
  
Ten years previous, Grigor had just reached detective rank in NYPD. He was at the prime of his career. Each time someone he had arrested was convicted and sentenced he made a notch in the wooden molding around his bedroom door.  
  
One day he came home and found he had no space left to make another notch. He sat on his bed and stared at his mutilated doorframe, trying to find meaning in his milestone.  
  
There was none. He didn't even know why he kept count. He felt almost like he had been competing with someone, a face he couldn't quite remember but he saw often in his dreams. Nothing real.  
  
The big man mourned over the futility of his life. He had wanted to believe he fought the good fight but he only perpetuated a contest with a phantom. The notches in the wood meant nothing. An evil overshadowed his effort and his fight against it resembled a man trying to hold back the tide. Nothing he could do would ever make a difference.  
  
This feeling of uselessness tore at him for a year and a half, eating away his stomach lining and placing a weight on his mind that made his head hurt.  
  
During a routine security detail he looked into the face of Mr. Baggins, a man he had the responsibility to protect. Somewhere behind his clear blue eyes he saw his purpose. The pain in his body turned to an ache. If the good fight existed, its fate would be decided in Mr. Baggins keeping. He could not leave him. He protected him from that night forward, knowing that on this path his life would one day make a difference.  
  
He never found his work menial. He simply bided his time. Over the years that he watched over Mr. Baggins he felt the battle grow closer and closer. Yesterday he saw the first signs that it had begun. The enemy had shown his face and Mr. Baggins readied himself for the attack. The true battle between good and evil had begun.  
  
But Grigor had been left behind and the familiar feeling of uselessness threatened to return to him. Watching over a chatty punker with black and blue hair was not how he'd planned to meet his destiny.  
  
As his thought mulled over his new responsibility, she emerged from the apartment building. She had screwed her face into an ugly, angry frown as she stumbled towards the car on feet that had not yet woken up.  
  
Without a word, Grigor came around the car and greeted her with an open door to the backseat. The sun cut through the morning fog to shine on a frown that would not leave her. She looked up at him with sullen eyes, the same sort of eyes he hid behind dark glasses. "What are you doing here?" she asked grumpily.  
  
No temper, no matter how ill would cause him to waver over his duties. He gestured formally towards the open door reminding her that she should get in. "Mr. Baggins instructed me to escort you until his return," he stated.  
  
The growing brightness caused Piper to squint as she looked up at the stoic giant. She reached into her bag to blindly look for her sunglasses. "That's not what I meant," she replied. She couldn't feel the familiar shape of the glasses case readily enough and gave up her search. She wouldn't need them inside the car. She climbed in and Grigor shut the door after her.  
  
"I don't live here," she continued once he sat behind the wheel. "Why are you here?"  
  
"This is where I dropped you off yesterday evening," he answered without looking at her. "This morning I inquired with the doorman if you had departed. He told me you hadn't so I assumed you were still here."  
  
Piper's eyes widened at the effort he had taken. If her lips had not been so dry she would have whistled. "How would he have known?" she asked. "He's only been on duty since seven."  
  
"Correction, ma'am," he replied, "that would be six. I spoke with the previous doorman before the shift change."  
  
"Geez," Piper said incredulously, "that's taking your job seriously. I hope he's paying you well enough."  
  
"Where to, ma'am?" Grigor asked ignoring her comment about his employer. His wound was too fresh.  
  
Piper didn't answer him. She looked out the tinted window at the building she had just left. She felt betrayed, abandoned by her best friend. She knew this was no game. This wasn't supposed to be fun but they were supposed to be there for each other.  
  
She couldn't even be sure if she would see either of them again. If she couldn't go with Merrick, she would follow him like a hound. "You're supposed to take me wherever I want to go, right?" she asked in a voice that had grown suddenly thick.  
  
He looked up at her through the mirror. She wasn't talking about another shopping trip. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
Piper met his eyes, catching a glimpse of them behind his mirrored lenses. "Does it have to be in this city?"  
  
* * *  
  
Frodo leaned into the door to Sally's room, trying to catch any sound within. He hoped the silence he heard meant that she was sleeping. Enaiowen's death struck her hard as it did him. Her tears did not surprise him but her keeping them to herself did. The loss was one they shared; the mourning should be as well.  
  
He raised his hand to the door to knock softly. The door came open by itself.  
  
The late afternoon sun filtered through the fabric of the curtains in the window illuminating Sally's sleeping form. From the open doorway Frodo could hear her breathing. The sound made his brow crease with worry. Instead of a soft intake of air, she moaned raspily with each breath. She struggled to pull air into the strangled network of tubes that were her lungs. He remembered seeing her use an inhaler but for some reason he never connected that with her being unwell. He had assumed he knew everything about her. What he knew was only half of who she was.  
  
He listened intently to the soft rattling in her chest each time she breathed in. Hoping that it could be corrected with her waking, he reached out slowly to gently shake her shoulder.  
  
"Master Frodo?" she called softly.  
  
Frodo bent down closely to her. He pulled his hand back before he would begin to tremble. The voice was hers. The words were not. Sally was still asleep.  
  
"What happened to you?" she asked in the same distant voice.  
  
Frodo closed his eyes to keep the tears at bay. "Sally…?"  
  
"You look dark," she said. She sounded wounded and lost, groping for something familiar in the darkness. "Where is my dear master of the sweet days in the Shire?"  
  
"Oh, Sam," he said softly. He wanted to take her hand, to touch her cheek, to make some contact but he feared he would break the spell and Sam would disappear once again to the recesses of Sally's mind. How Sam must see him through her eyes! Frodo's heart rended in misery at the thought. So long he had been alone, so long had he missed his dearest Sam, he could not remember that faint image of himself in those days of innocence, those days before—  
  
"Was it the Ring that's done this to you?" The question came, echoing his thoughts. Even though her eyes remained closed in sleep, Frodo felt that Sam could see him now, his burden heavy, his soul weary, exposed. If only it were that simple.  
  
"No…" he whispered, "no, Sam." He had carried the Ring for so long it had truly become a part of him. The Ring had expelled its darkness to accept him as its true master, as its Lord. The changes that had marred him were not its doing entirely. The source of his darkness came from something that could not simply be cast into the fires and be undone.  
  
"It was the world."  
  
A stillness followed his statement. Such quiet that Frodo almost thought he had said nothing at all, that Sam still waited for his answer.  
  
Sally began to stir. Her raspy breathing brought a flurry of coughs that she could not resist. Her sleepy eyes opened wider in surprise when she saw she was not alone. "Frodo?"  
  
He smiled weakly in response, embarrassed at being discovered so close to her. "I'm sorry, Sally," he said, "I didn't mean to wake you."  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut as she stretched her arms out in front of her. Her sleep had refreshed her somewhat. Her tears though not forgotten, were not at the forefront of her thoughts. "That's alright," she said. She opened her eyes and looked at him with curiosity. "Did you need something?"  
  
Frodo shook his head. So much time had passed since he first came in that he had almost forgotten why he had come. "I just thought you should have something to eat."  
  
Sally followed him to the white painted stairs that led down to the kitchen. Her thoughts were vague, about her sleep, about the comfort of a real bed with pillows and blankets, about her dreams. She couldn't recall any specific place or event, only a feeling, warm, loved and needed. Whatever she dreamt brought her the solace she needed.  
  
As she reached the first step, something behind her caught her arm. She turned to see an elderly woman in a pink flannel bathrobe, with white hair in delicate braids around her face. The woman held Sally's hand and smiled at her. Sally smiled back but the woman did not release her. She began to speak but Sally could not understand her. She spoke only Nynorsk.  
  
"Frodo?" Sally called out in a calmer tone than she had expected. "What's she saying?"  
  
Frodo was several steps ahead of her down the stairs but he had turned the moment he had heard the old woman speak. Her voice and manner were muted for the moment but he heard her clearly. He smiled warmly. "She says her lover is coming tonight," he told Sally.  
  
Sally worked hard within herself to not let her discomfort show. She nodded and held her smile. "Okay," she said uneasily.  
  
The old woman continued. She spoke with such sudden passion and with a wonder in her eyes that could only be matched by a child seeing snow for the first time. She held Sally's hand close to her chest, speaking only for Sally's benefit. Her words came to her indirectly through Frodo's soft, warm voice. "When the moon is full and the wind rushes towards the mountain, he appears in a storm."  
  
Frodo grew quiet as the old woman became more intense. Tears appeared in her eyes as she reached up to stroke Sally's cheek. Sally needed little translation here. She saw the old woman longed for days of her youth.  
  
"She caught his favor long ago," Frodo said quietly. He stood behind her now, looking intently at the old woman. "Ever since she has waited for him."  
  
Sally gently took the woman's hand from her face and held it for a moment in the shelter of her own. Sally felt great sympathy for her. "She must have waited a long time," she replied softly.  
  
"I suppose so," Frodo said. The both of them nodded respectfully to the woman as he gently led Sally away.  
  
As Sally descended the stairs, she looked back to find the old woman watching her thoughtfully. She smiled again and raised her hand in farewell.  
  
Frodo's thoughts dwelled on the woman as well but they were much more grave. She spoke of matters that he did not pass on to Sally. She did not simply relate a tale of long lost love. She gave them a warning.  
  
This love of hers resembled a spirit, mysterious and distant. She said that he would come that night but not for her. He planned to claim Sally for his own.  
  
Frodo wanted to dismiss her words as the ramblings of a woman whose mind had weakened with age. But he sensed something familiar in her story. He needed to keep Sally close to him if his feelings proved true. At this point in their journey, he had to take greater care. The night would reveal if he worried needlessly.  
  
* * *  
  
Sally laid awake in the darkness of her room trying to will herself to sleep. She felt safe in the cozy, homelike inn but she knew her sense of security was merely wishful thinking. The Nazgul still hunted them and with their timely appearance at the airport they were only a step behind. They had run out of protectors. Throwing a shoe at them only worked once.  
  
A plan began to form in her head, something sinister. She heard below the faint sounds of the innkeeper clearing away the dishes from dinner. She quietly climbed out of bed. She didn't want Frodo to hear her from the adjacent room. She didn't want him to know. As she passed his door she paused, making sure that she had escaped her employer's detection. She crept away to make a request of their host. A request that came from a darkness within her that she was not willing to acknowledge. She descended the stairs in silence with Piper's credit card clutched in her hand.  
  
* * *  
  
Sleep came to Sally more easily after her conversation with the innkeeper but it lacked the peacefulness it had brought to her earlier. She dreamt of clashing swords, angry fighting in a dark tower and a great weight around her neck.  
  
A loud sound yanked her from her sleep. She sat up in bed and tried to orient herself in the pitch darkness. A flash of lightning lit up her room and revealed Frodo standing in her doorway.  
  
The lightning diminished, casting the room back in blackness again. A boom of thunder followed, awakening childhood fears. "Frodo?" she called timidly, hoping her eyes had not deceived her.  
  
"Are you alright, Sally?" he asked with concern.  
  
"Yeah," she sighed, making her relief apparent. "What's going on?"  
  
Frodo walked over to her window. She barely made out his silhouette in the scarce amount of light that emanated from outside. "The storm has knocked the power out," he told her.  
  
Sally's thoughts drew back to the old woman and her telling of her lover coming in a storm. Frodo had said she believed he would come that night. "Maybe the old lady was right," she mused aloud.  
  
"She was," Frodo replied. He watched intently something outside, diverting almost all of his attention to the trees below them.  
  
His tone was far too grave for Sally to dismiss. She pulled her feet out from the covers and placed them on the floor. "What's wrong?" she asked stepping towards him in the gloom. "What do you see?"  
  
Sensing her near, Frodo raised his hand in warning. "Stay back, Sally," he said in a harsh whisper. He seemed to be afraid someone would hear him.  
  
"Why?" she whispered back. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh in a room that was not very cold.  
  
"Someone is outside," he replied.  
  
Before Sally could react a great amount of clatter, followed by a voice howling in delight came from a room down the hall. Sally recognized the old woman's voice. She did not understand the words but their meaning was clear. 'He's here! He's here!'  
  
Suddenly Sally's room filled with light. A dazzling brilliance so bright it blinded her into oblivion. She didn't feel her feet leave her or the bed catch her, only sweet dreamless sleep.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: Thank you for your continued support. You guys are the best! If it were not for fanfiction and the wonderful feedback you give me, I seriously doubt that I would have the desire to write as much as I do (which by some standards is not much). It's all for you (and a little for me).  
  
Chapter Ten: "A Shortcut to Memories" : Sally finally starts asking questions but will Frodo give her answers? A familiar face makes an appearance and clears up a mystery and Merrick begins having a strange dream about a tree. See you here in about a week. Live well and write what's in your heart. 


	10. A Shortcut to Memories

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Ten: A Shortcut to Memories  
  
  
  
"Sally, we need to go."  
  
The gentle insistence of the words burrowed deep into her sleep and tried to drag her to the surface but Sally felt too good. She didn't want to go. She felt perfect contentment in every inch of her body, the way she laid, the softness of the bed beneath her and the warmth of the blankets over her. She wouldn't trade this feeling for all the mocha lattes in the world. "No, Piper, please," she moaned sleepily, "just five more minutes."  
  
Frodo stifled a chuckle at her request. For all that she has done for him five minutes was a relatively humble thing to want. He found no reason not to grant it to her.  
  
Little by little, her senses began to strip away the layers of sleep. She could hear footsteps outside her door and through closed eyes she could sense the morning sunlight from her window. No matter how comfortable the bed, it was not her own. She turned slowly to face her visitor. She blinked at him with heavy eyes. "Is there something odd about this room?" she asked with muted amusement, "because every time I shut my eyes, when I open them again, there you are."  
  
Frodo gave her a smile that almost reached his eyes. "There's nothing strange, I assure you," he said as he sat on the edge of her bed. "These past couple of days have been hard on you. You've just been very tired."  
  
Sally pulled herself up to a sitting position. She watched him with rested eyes and began to wonder if she had taken more than her share of sleep. Frodo hid his weariness with great difficulty. "What about you?"  
  
His smile began to fade. He did not like to talk about himself. "I'm not like you, Sally," he said quietly. "It's been a long time since I had untroubled sleep."  
  
Sally did not pursue the comment. She knew where it would go. She could almost feel its weight around her neck, pulling her down. "I don't know if I would describe my sleep as untroubled," she sighed. She leaned back against her pillows and looked out the window. The air itself looked icy. Soon she would leave the inn and be in the cold. She remembered snow against her face, not Chicago snow. Mountain snow. She frowned at the thought. "There is something…not right with me."  
  
A look of concern crossed his face. "Sally?"  
  
She closed her eyes tightly as she felt the coming of angry, frustrated tears. "You told me that I wasn't losing my mind but I don't know what's wrong with me," she said. She took a deep but shaking breath and looked to him. A question had haunted her since the train, since his reassurances, his promises. Why would he have made them if he didn't truly believe them? "You know, don't you?" she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You know what's happening to me?"  
  
Frodo's eyes widened with fear. She had trapped him and he fought the long developed instinct to attempt escape. "Yes," he replied.  
  
A tear fell silently down her cheek. "Tell me, please," she pleaded with quiet desperation. "I have to know."  
  
Frodo shook his head and looked away from everything. "I can't," he said. He was ashamed. He had hidden something from her and it hurt him deeply that he couldn't give it freely.  
  
"Why?" Sally demanded, straining her voice with emotion. "Why can't you?"  
  
He looked back at her now. His expression was nearly unfathomable. She almost did not recognize him for the warmth had all but disappeared from his eyes. The words that came were cold and hard. "Because if you are to come with me, it must be of your own free will," he said in a tone that chilled her. "I tried to leave you before in Chicago. If you have doubts now, I will leave you in Andalsnes."  
  
Her face was wet with tears that had fallen unchecked. Her body shook. Her hands trembled like leaves caught in a breeze. Intense emotions gripped her like nothing she had ever known. Fear, despair, longing. She fought to reach the one small part of her that remained rational. From there she pulled her words. "Why does that hurt so much?" she asked in choking sobs. "Why can I not bear the thought of leaving your side? What is this force that cleaves me to you?"  
  
Frodo regretted immediately the words he chose and the voice he used. He didn't want to hurt her. He only wanted to keep her safe but the idea had awakened too much of Sam in her. He saw him in the way her mouth turned and her eyes pleaded but mostly by how the pure emotion washed over her unabated by shame or modesty. Sam never tried to hide his feelings and now Sally could not hold them back. If she knew where it all came from, why she felt the way she did… Even he could not predict how she would react. He reached out to her in sympathy and apology. He took her hand and pulled her to him. "I can't tell you, Sally," he said, hugging her close. "I can't."  
  
Sally's fingers clutched his coat and she buried her face in her hands. She found comfort in the embrace but she could not quiet the voice growing inside her, warning her that he would leave her behind. She felt a great love for him, a love she would sacrifice everything for. A sacred duty she still could not understand. "Will I ever know?" she asked, her quiet words muffled against his chest.  
  
Frodo leaned his chin on the top of her head and sighed heavily. Without conscious thought he had begun to rock her, holding her much like a father comforting a frightened child, much like he had once been held. "Yes," he told her in a whisper. "I promise you that."  
  
Sally pulled herself up straight to face him. Her tears had begun to dry. She answered a voice that said the time for tears must end, a calling to steel herself for the road ahead. This was not the voice of warning she heard so strongly before. It was her own. "Then I will go with you," she said in quiet earnest. "I will go with you still and I will go of my own free will."  
  
* * *  
  
Merrick sat on a bench in Central Park looking at the day's newspaper with worry. A gentle breeze swayed the branches of the smooth barked trees behind him. They seemed to bend around him, reaching this way and that, to get a sense of the world from what they felt in the wind.  
  
"A thing of beauty, was she not?" a decidedly feminine voice spoke from behind him. She referred to the photograph which Merrick looked at so intently. It was of a fashion model who had died in an airport in Norway.  
  
"I suppose," he replied without looking away. The face enchanted him. She seemed almost supernaturally beautiful. "She is pretty…or was."  
  
The voice clicked its tongue in a regretful tone. "A shame for the elves to lose one so fair," she said.  
  
Merrick frowned suddenly at the oddness of the statement. "Excuse me?" he asked attempting to turn around.  
  
He found he could not move. Something hard and unyielding kept him in his place.  
  
"Do not turn around, little one," the voice warned. "You will not know what you see. My kind does not take to using cheap glamour."  
  
Merrick swallowed hard, hoping to keep his fear down. The words spoken made little sense. "What are you talking about?" he asked.  
  
The voice came close to him, next to his ear. "You worry about your friend who has gone far away," she said. "We know who is after them."  
  
He felt a panic growing in the pit of his stomach. His heart pounded hard against his chest. "Who are you?" he asked in a harsh whisper.  
  
A new voice, softer and wiser than the first, answered him. "Ancient, forgotten,' she said. She spoke clearly but seemed far away, above and behind him. "You did not even know us when you walked on smaller legs."  
  
"Time is growing short, little one," the first voice spoke again. "Your friend's enemy will soon find you but do not be afraid."  
  
"Bring him to us," the second voice told him. She carried a weight of great authority, not just over him in his captive state but also over others all unknown to him in the unseen world behind him. "We have waited long for the Awakening to reveal ourselves to him. Our vengeance was old when the world was young."  
  
"Awakening?" Merrick asked, finding his voice. "What do you mean?" He twisted in his seat turning his head around to look behind him. He didn't realize they had released him.  
  
He saw nothing behind him, only the trees. The first voice spoke again seemingly from all around him. She almost laughed at him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't read in your dreams?"  
  
Merrick snapped his attention down to the newspaper still in his lap. The letters swam on the page, swirling in a soup of confusion.  
  
Suddenly he sat up in his bed wide awake. His hotel room was dark and he could hear the sounds of city traffic through his open window.  
  
It had all been a dream. A weird, strange, freaky dream.  
  
Merrick looked over at his clock. The neon green digital numbers were the only light in the room. 6:15 a.m. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now.  
  
He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to his door. As he opened it, the light from the hallway blinded him. Through squinted, bleary eyes he saw a newspaper lying by his feet. He reached down and picked it up.  
  
Standing in the doorway, he began to tremble in shock as he looked at the front page. There, staring back at him, with all her tragic beauty was the photo of the fashion model who had died in Norway. He had known of her death already. He had learned of it in his dream.  
  
Merrick looked around him as if he expected someone would appear and explain it all. But he was alone. Alone and frightened. He had chosen to be alone but now he regretted it.  
  
He missed Piper.  
  
* * *  
  
Sally followed Frodo along the well worn trail in the woods at the base of Mount Trollveggen. Without him telling her, she knew that their journey on modern transportation had come to an end. Where they were going could not be reached by rail or car or airplane. Their destination was of the past and so their travel would be as well.  
  
At least this time Sally came prepared with more practical shoes. She had pulled her shoulder length curls into a ponytail and wore a long brown coat to keep out the chill of the north air. She had packed her bag with as many provisions as she could carry. She had tried to bring more but Frodo told her that they had enough. He smiled as he said it, reminding her that she didn't need to carry more than her share.  
  
But she carried something else which had escaped his notice, something she acquired from the innkeeper. She kept it out of sight, hidden beneath her coat on her back. Its form dented her flesh from the weight of her backpack. She would not speak of it but each step reminded her of its presence.  
  
Sally looked up ahead of her. The trail they walked had become thinner, less traveled. How much further before it would not exist at all? "Where are we going?" she asked breaking their companionable silence.  
  
Frodo looked back at her and almost laughed. He had expected that question at the start of their walk. "To the edge of the world," he answered.  
  
Sally stumbled. She caught her footing and managed to recover before falling. She watched him and saw that his amused smile persisted. Despite his demeanor she knew he meant what he said. "Is it far?" she asked, trying to disguise her surprise.  
  
"Not as far as you would think," he replied.  
  
"Are you in a hurry, Master Frodo?" a voice called from ahead of them.  
  
Sally saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off of the surface of something golden. A man approached them, seeming to come from the trees themselves. He walked without disturbing his surroundings. His footfalls made no sound and the branches of the trees yielded to his presence of their own accord. He had a face of eternal youth and timeless beauty and to look at him was to look at the sun itself. He was an elf, a real one, not hidden beneath a mask of glamour.  
  
Sally suddenly felt lightheaded. She reached out to steady herself and Frodo caught her arm.  
  
"Easy Sally, he's a friend," he said reassuringly.  
  
"My apologies," the golden elf said to her with sympathy in a voice that sang like music. "I did not mean to startle you."  
  
She had seen this light before, intense and brilliant. The memory of the previous night rushed back into her mind with dizzying force. "I know you," she whispered unsteadily. "But I thought that was just a dream."  
  
The world spun around her and she pitched forward, slipping from Frodo's grasp. The elf caught her in comforting arms, holding her with the tenderness of one who knew her well. "I have that effect on many," he said with a touch of regret. "It would not have worked on you if I had known you were traveling together.'  
  
Sally's eyelids fluttered for a moment but she managed to keep them open. The elf looked down at her with curious concern. Frodo appeared behind him peering over his shoulder. His brow had furrowed with worry. He had not expected the certainty of the elf's presence to disorient her so. The dreamlike trance inflicted upon her from the night before faded with resistance. He wished he could have eased her, maybe found some way to prepare her but telling her what had happened in the night would only have confused her. Dream had become reality and reality resembled fantasy more and more. The human mind did not take these transitions lightly.  
  
"Sally, this is Legolas," he told her, hoping to anchor her thoughts to the moment.  
  
She looked up to the elf who held her and opened her mouth to speak. At first no sound came but her mind had begun to clear. Her memories began to fall into place. There had been a storm. The elf had appeared in a flash of light and then she had fallen asleep. She remembered now. She moved her lips again and this time formed words. "From the Fellowship," she breathed.  
  
Legolas smiled gently. "You honor me," he said, helping her get to her feet. "I have come to escort you to the Gates of Moria. Can you ride?"  
  
Sally followed his indication to a clearing beyond the trail ahead. Three horses waited for them to continue their journey. She nodded faintly. "I can manage."  
  
Legolas proved to Sally to be a most charming traveling companion. She imagined that any other time he could appear aloof, perhaps even superior. But his responsibility for her fugue state, however innocent, seemed to open him up to her. They rode side by side discussing the mystery he had built around himself. His avoidance of humanity reminded her of Frodo. She looked back to find him trailing behind them by several paces. Did his avoidance persist even now?  
  
"Do you not like people?" she asked, returning her thoughts to the elf.  
  
"I like people very much, Sally," he said warmly, "but living in their world comes with a price."  
  
Sally frowned. "What is that?"  
  
Legolas turned to look at her. He hid his thoughts behind an expressionless face. "Corruption," he answered.  
  
Sally felt a sudden chill pass through her. His words seemed hauntingly familiar. "Enaiowen said something like that," she told him in a small voice. "She called it a darkness."  
  
"That's a good description." The elf nodded and looked away, not to the path but to something farther. "When Sauron forged the One Ring he placed the essence of himself within it. As a being of evil, the Ring became such as well. All who possessed it, were corrupted by it to some degree. They could wield it, but the Ring was never theirs. Sauron was its true master," he said. He had pulled himself back to the past to bring her this tale. The memory of those times saddened him. The world had stood on the brink of despair. "Until Frodo," he continued with a sudden hint of hope. "Faced with its own destruction, the Rind expelled Sauron's essence and accepted Frodo as its Lord."  
  
The smile that began to form on Legolas' lips died. His hope had faded. "But Sauron's evil was not destroyed," he said solemnly. "It bled into the world, tainting it, becoming a part of it."  
  
Sally froze. "Everything?" she breathed.  
  
He met her eyes. His implications could not be denied. "Everything and everyone."  
  
She shifted uneasily on her mount. The movement reminded her of the object she carried at her back. She did not need to be told that a darkness dwelled within her. She looked back to find Frodo. A part of his mystery had been illuminated. He had opened the proverbial Pandora's box and released great evil into the world. The burden of the Ring had increased tenfold in her eyes. As in the myth itself, hope still remained.  
  
Frodo had stopped. He looked past her through the trees with an expression of undeniable dread. Sally followed his gaze and saw in the distance a small, rustic cottage.  
  
"What is that doing here?" he asked.  
  
Legolas stopped his mount and looked back to his old friend. "He knew you would have to come this way," he said in explanation.  
  
Frodo stiffened. Sally had never seen him like this. "I don't want to see him," he said shaking his head.  
  
"He has been waiting for you for a long time," Legolas said. "He knows you mean to do this." He looked in sympathy to Frodo. The sight of the wooden structure caused him great discomfort. Not the structure but who dwelled within it.  
  
"He doubts me," Frodo said sadly. He looked down as if taking the sight of it away would take its presence away. "I've been nothing but a disappointment to him." Finally he dismounted. "I don't want to do this, Legolas."  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: I apologize for the delay in posting. Life is persistent in its plans to get in the way of me being on time. It persists still. For those who don't receive email notification of updates, I will try to have Chapter 11 up in a week. Please keep looking for it. I promise it will be worth the wait.  
  
Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews. Please don't call yourselves stupid if you can't figure out who someone is supposed to be. Maybe I just wanted you to be surprised when you found out for real.( I have a friend who reads this and I've told her most of the surprises I've got in store for you but I really wish I hadn't. She would probably enjoy it better if she found out when you do. Also, if you have any complaints, major or minor, please email them to me. Any suggestions to make this story better are always highly appreciated, as long as it's constructive.  
  
For those of you wondering who lives in the cabin you won't have to wonder for long…  
  
Chapter Eleven: "In the House of Gandalf the White" – Many sad and wonderful things happen in this chapter. We find out why Frodo doesn't want to see him among many other astounding revelations. Piper and Grigor have a parting of ways. And something else happens that I know you guys have been waiting for….the 'Awakening'. 


	11. In the House of Gandalf the White

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
  
  
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Eleven: In the House of Gandalf the White  
  
  
  
  
  
Frodo walked past Sally's horse like a man walking to his own execution. With each step he took towards the small cabin he tensed in apprehension for the fate that awaited him there.  
  
  
  
Sally couldn't stand to see him like this. Though the source of his pain was a mystery to her, she shared it with him. As he passed her she climbed down carefully from her saddle. "I'm coming with you," she said.  
  
  
  
Frodo stopped and turned slightly to face her. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, a look of bittersweet nostalgia for an echo of his past. He shook his head and told her gently, "You don't have to." He knew that nothing he could say or do would keep her away.  
  
  
  
"But we stand together," she stated firmly. She spoke quietly, too quietly for him to hear her. He was already several steps ahead and she looked after him with uncertainty. What could he fear? Those words spilled out of her for her own benefit, an affirmation of her purpose. Exactly what she needed to make her feet follow him.  
  
  
  
Legolas heard her. Her soft tone could not deceive his sharp ears. He smiled inwardly as he watched her trail after her master, understanding at last the source of her devotion.  
  
  
  
Only steps away from the cabin, its weather-beaten door flew open with a powerful force. Sally gasped in surprise and looked to its cause.  
  
  
  
A fiercely tall, amazingly aged, elderly man stood in the doorway bathed in white. His robe was white. The hair on his head and face were white. The starkness of him was so pure, he seemed to glow. When he spoke, his voice boomed into the air with such strength that Sally nearly cringed to hear him. "Frodo Baggins of the Shire," he said in stern greeting, "too long it has been since your shadow has darkened my door."  
  
  
  
"Hello, Gandalf," Frodo said in his soft voice. His manner did not do well to hide his heavy heart.  
  
  
  
Gandalf turned his back on them and retreated to the interior of his home. "Come in, if you must," he said bitterly.  
  
  
  
Sally frowned as she followed Frodo into the darkened cabin. If he welcomed them, he did so only reluctantly. The old man held the same enthusiasm for this meeting that Frodo did.  
  
  
  
Gandalf turned his attention to a small table and began to prepare tea. Sally watched him as he reached into a cupboard to pull down a third cup to accompany the two he had already set out. She remembered that Legolas had said that he had waited. Waited and planned for this.  
  
  
  
The old man sighed deeply as he set the teapot over the fire. "I have dreamt of this day," he said. "I have prayed for this day and now that it has come, I find it … anticlimactic." His disappointment was evident.  
  
  
  
Frodo let out a breath he had held for too long and hung his head low. "I know what you must think of me," he said sadly.  
  
  
  
Gandalf snorted softly and settled on a stool near the open fireplace. "You know nothing," he spat. He would not face them, preferring the indifferent company of the teapot he watched. "Yes, you have come to destroy the Ring. We should all bow to your grand benevolence."  
  
  
  
His mocking tone only served to push Frodo back into the shadows as he receded further into his own guilt. "I suppose I deserve that," he said.  
  
  
  
"Why?" Sally asked, unable to contain her outrage.  
  
  
  
Frodo looked to her as if startled by her presence. He shook his head in warning. "Sally, don't."  
  
  
  
"But sir," she protested, "with the burden you bear—"  
  
  
  
"With the burden he bears he could have destroyed us all on a whim," Gandalf pronounced loudly, interrupting her with his grand voice. "But in his blind arrogance of having noble intentions, his actions have been nothing short of godlike." He stood from his stool, once again reaching his impossible height. He turned to face her, fixing her with a piercing gaze that awakened an old fear inside of her. She suddenly remembered he was a powerful wizard. "Don't misunderstand," he said in a gentler tone as he spoke to Sally alone. "I am grateful that Frodo is who he is. Circumstances could have been a great deal worse for us had it been otherwise."  
  
  
  
"Then why do you speak to him like this?" Sally demanded. She knew, somehow, that she was supposed to be afraid of him, but she didn't care. "He deserves better. I may not know him as you do, but you don't know ME at all. I chose him as my friend, in the truest sense of the word and I will stand by him until the quest is finished." Instead of shrinking away from the towering wizard she stepped up with each assertion until she stood toe to toe with him. "You may think of him in what horrible manner you see fit but if you choose to use that hateful tone in my presence, I will defend him."  
  
  
  
Gandalf cocked his head to one side and regarded her with a curious expression. The Frodo he remembered did not take to bringing companions and if he felt so compelled, a young, human female would not be his first choice. What could make her so special? Could she possess some quality he could see with close inspection? He bent down and looked into her face. She set her jaw in determination not to look away.  
  
  
  
There, in her eyes, he saw it. The devotion, the faithfulness that survived even death itself. He recognized her then and in that instant, he understood everything. "No doubt about that," he said softly unable to suppress his smile. He straightened and returned to his tea. The water had just begun to boil. "Your grammar has improved greatly," he added with amusement.  
  
  
  
"Gandalf!" Frodo protested loudly. His eyes had grown wide in shock.  
  
  
  
The wizard looked back to Frodo and his smile faded at the look of warning he received. The mystery had yet to be revealed to all who were present and Frodo was not ready for that to change. For the moment, Gandalf would respect his wishes. "You are right, young Sally," he said, returning his attention to cups and steeping tea. "I do not hate Frodo. I love him dearly, as you must. If my tone holds venom, it is for myself and not for him."  
  
  
  
"You've done nothing wrong," Frodo said to him. His remorsefulness had overtaken his brief panic. He was not fearful of this meeting as Sally had earlier believed. He was repentant. He had sinned and had the opportunity to come for forgiveness. Now that the moment had come for him to ask, he found himself unworthy. He did not like the way he looked through Gandalf's eyes for he believed that was the truest vision of himself. "I should have rid myself of this when I was asked to."  
  
  
  
"Doing nothing, Frodo, was my crime," Gandalf replied. He offered them the tea he had prepared and returned to his seat by the fire. Each of them held their cups like forgotten props not knowing that they were to drink from them. "Destroying the Ring was as much my responsibility as it was yours. I was leader of the Fellowship while it was intact. I was supposed to provide guidance, but in your hour of need, when the Ring's power caught you in its delirium, you did what you did and I did nothing to stop you." The cup had all but disappeared in the old man's hand as he brought it to his lips. He held his head back and emptied the contents in one long drink. He then placed the empty cup back on the table. He neither wanted nor needed props.  
  
  
  
The implications of the wizard's statements hung heavily in the air. "What did he do?" Sally heard herself ask in a tiny voice.  
  
  
  
Gandalf took a shuddering breath before he answered her. "He remade the world." He said the words but he could not bring himself to face her. Maybe she would not understand the scope of his meaning and her disbelief would keep her innocent. But he did not want to watch her as he related the tale. He did not want to see her face and the eyes that were the window to the soul she held. "In all honesty, he panicked," he continued. "The Ring itself rid us of Sauron but his evil spread like a virus across all of Middle Earth. Frodo used the Ring to unleash powers Sauron had ignored. He influenced the earth itself to move as many out of the path of evil as he could."  
  
  
  
"But not everyone?" Sally asked as if she were merely an audience. She held the reality at bay until she could better deal with it. 'Frodo: the Reshaper of Middle Earth' would be filed away with 'Frodo: Changer of Swords into Umbrellas' until the ideas became less terrifying.  
  
  
  
"The race of men chose to face the evil on their own," Gandalf explained. "It is their world you have come to call home. What few he could save from Sauron's evil dwell on the other side of this mountain. They can only be reached through Moria."  
  
  
  
"Not all of them," Frodo said suddenly, quietly. "You forgot the Shire."  
  
  
  
Gandalf looked at Frodo with unbearable sadness. "I could never forget the Shire, Frodo," he said.  
  
  
  
Sally looked to her employer whose mind seemed lost in painful memories. This was important. This Shire was not the company for which she worked. This was something different, bigger, more personal, much more dear. "What happened to the Shire?" she asked with a deep desire to know.  
  
  
  
A single tear trailed down Frodo's cheek as he remembered the magnificence of his power. He felt so much pain at what he had become. No matter how good his intentions or how many had benefited from his deeds, what he had done was horrifying. Only more horrifying was the yearning to do it all again. The power still called to him in a siren song that would never cease. For Sally's sake he denied it. For Sally's sake. "I placed it out of reach," he said finally, "away from this plane of existence, where nothing can ever touch it or harm it again."  
  
  
  
"The effort nearly killed him," Gandalf added before Sally could digest Frodo's answer. "He slept for twenty years." Slowly the wizard came to his feet again. He faced his old friend with remembrance and all the heaviness of sorrow that came with it. "There were times I thought I should kill him for what he had done, for what he could yet do. But I left the Ring to him and watched over him until he awoke." With softly placed steps he stood before him more closely than before, looking down upon him as a father to his prodigal son. "I failed him again and I could never forgive myself. I could have saved you centuries of pain."  
  
  
  
At last Frodo looked up and met the old man's eyes. "We all wish we had done things differently," he said. "I will not blame you for my weaknesses."  
  
  
  
Gandalf placed his hands gently on the smaller man's shoulders. "You are the last of your kind here, Frodo," he said gravely. "Soon your task will be done and all our suffering will come to an end." In one moment, they stepped towards one another and arms encircled in an embrace of fellowship and in their quiet sadness each found something they had longed for…forgiveness.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Piper had always been the type who loved road trips but that was because she had good friends to take with her. Traveling across state lines with the big man in the driver's seat had proven to be more interesting than she had hoped. Seeing him pump gas in his tailored suit amused her immensely but nothing could suppress the joy she found from the curious glances they received each time they stopped to eat. She must have looked like a rock star with her bodyguard from the looks and whispers she caught.  
  
  
  
Sometimes Grigor would slip from his stalwart persona and they would share memories of their lives. He would talk about his days in the police department and she would relate tales of being a fan magnet at comic conventions. He did not talk about his current employment and she said very little of her friends. Neither of them spoke aloud of where they were going or why.  
  
  
  
As they entered the teeming cacophony of New York City, Piper watched him narrow his eyes at something he saw in the rear view mirror. She frowned at him with worry. That action had become almost obsessive. "Why do you keep doing that?" she asked finally.  
  
  
  
"We're being followed," he answered simply.  
  
  
  
Piper's eyes grew wide in surprise. She swiveled around in her seat to look at the road behind them. "No kidding? Really?" she asked with excitement. Several car lengths behind them, she saw a dark sedan, similar to theirs, with tinted windows to obscure the mysterious occupants.  
  
  
  
"I noticed them in Indiana," Grigor remarked. If he had any great concern about this revelation, he veiled it skillfully.  
  
  
  
"We've stopped at least three times since then!" she said incredulously. Her heart began to beat fast. Her road trip suddenly became less fun.  
  
  
  
"They don't seem interested in catching us," he replied in a voice of utter calm, "only finding out where we're going."  
  
  
  
Piper turned herself back in her seat. Her mind reeled from this new fear. She knew what they were after. "Merrick," she whispered.  
  
  
  
The name did not escape Grigor's attention. He looked at her through the rearview mirror. "Your friend who ditched you?" he asked. "You think they're after him?"  
  
  
  
Piper nodded faintly, trying to piece it all together in her mind. "Sally called and asked him to do something in New York. He wouldn't say what, only that it was too dangerous." As she spoke, Grigor pulled their car over to the curb in a spot that obviously was not meant for parking. This action transformed her fear into a panic. "What are you doing? Why are you stopping?" she demanded.  
  
  
  
For the first time since she had ever climbed into his car, Grigor turned around to face her. No mirrors this time. "Don't worry," he told her reassuringly. "I'm just going to ask for some help."  
  
  
  
Piper looked out the side window to see where they had stopped. Although a street sign hid the precinct number, she knew where they were. "From the cops?" she asked frowning.  
  
  
  
"Old friends," Grigor corrected as he climbed out of the car. "Just stay here until I get back." After giving his last instruction he left her.  
  
  
  
Piper watched him climb the steps of the police station as her fear gave way to quiet despair. She didn't have to look behind her to know of the dark sedan's presence. It was waiting, waiting for her to move, waiting for her to lead them to Merrick. What help could the police give them? This was beyond the simple world of cops and criminals. This was evil itself. Evil looking for Merrick. Evil chasing Sally.  
  
  
  
She shouldn't have come to New York. She had to make it right. She had to lead them away, away from all she loved.  
  
  
  
When Grigor would return, he would find an empty car.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Gandalf proved he could prepare more than just tea. He had spent part of his unnaturally lengthy life perfecting culinary skills in humble settings. Sally had come into this believing only hot dogs could be prepared over open fires, but now she took the last bite of a roasted duck that would have put any restaurant in Chicago to shame.  
  
  
  
Forgiveness was best served over a feast.  
  
  
  
The old wizard smoked contentedly at his pipe while Frodo and Sally cleared the table. For the moment, however brief, they felt at home.  
  
  
  
"You should prepare yourself before you go to the Gates," Gandalf said suddenly.  
  
  
  
The statement shattered their reverie. Sally felt the tension begin to rise again. "What do you mean?" Frodo asked uneasily.  
  
  
  
"You know precisely what I mean, Frodo," the old man said, throwing him a knowing glance. "The dwarves do not trust humans. You will have to shed your glamour."  
  
  
  
Frodo froze. He shut his eyes tightly and braced himself on the table. The mere suggestion terrified him. "But Gandalf…I ….I can't," he said in short breaths. Even with his eyes closed, he knew Sally watched him. He knew she was worried and frightened. He knew she didn't understand.  
  
  
  
"Do you need me to do it for you?" Gandalf posed the question harshly. Frodo immediately gave him a look conveying his terror that the wizard might carry through with his threat.  
  
  
  
Gandalf came to his side and again laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I understand you've worn it for a long time," he said more gently, "but you won't make it through Moria alive as a man."  
  
  
  
Sally came to his other side. She wanted to reassure him. "What are you afraid of, Frodo?" she asked.  
  
  
  
He looked at her, shaking his head in utter anguish. "I'm not afraid for myself, Sally." And he wasn't. He couldn't name his fear but he had carried it with him from the first day he had met her. He knew the moment would come when the last of his secrets would be stripped away. But now was too soon.  
  
  
  
"You have no choice, Frodo," Gandalf said firmly.  
  
  
  
He knew it was true. He knew his old friend was right. He backed away from them. His eyes never left Sally. "I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't ready but that didn't matter anymore.  
  
  
  
"For what?" she breathed. She didn't care about his glamour or what he hid beneath it. Her faithfulness to him knew no bounds.  
  
  
  
"For this."  
  
  
  
No sooner had the air carried the words, the man she had known as Frodo Baggins ceased to be. For a moment she saw him as he truly was, the same face, the same hair, the same warm eyes, just a smaller version, purified to the essence of all she loved of him.  
  
  
  
All she remembered…she remembered.  
  
  
  
She staggered backwards to the door. In that instant with one look into his true face, all of the memories awoke in her. Nothing had prepared her for this. Overwhelmed by emotion, lost in a sea of a remembered life, she opened her mouth to cry out.  
  
  
  
"Master Frodo…" she sobbed.  
  
  
  
Frodo took a step towards her. "Sam?"  
  
  
  
She shook her head. Too much. Too much. She couldn't sort it out. Where did Sam begin and Sally end? The faces, the fire, the life returned. Too much. The door came open behind her and she darted out into the shelter of the trees.  
  
  
  
Away.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Across an ocean, Merrick Brandenburg collapsed into a chair in the lobby of his hotel. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed. His king was dead, long ago on a battlefield no one would ever remember. The Ring still existed, worn by a friend whose face he might never see. And never again would he hear the joyful voices of his kin in Brandyhall. All gone. But somehow, once again, Merry got left behind.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Grigor Grigorovitch Kaplik hid himself behind the tinted windows of his car. He looked down at his hands and remembered the feel of the axe handle. He would never find an axe big enough for them. He mourned for the memory of the Glittering Caves and the warmth of a welcoming fire. He held bitter tears at bay as the mysteries of his life revealed themselves to him. As a dwarf, Gimli, son of Gloin, could mourn openly for all he had lost…but he was a big man now.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Piper Tune leaned against the concrete façade of a boutique on Fifth Avenue. Her back slid down the wall until she crumpled into the sidewalk. She wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock back and forth. Over and over she muttered to herself, "Fool of a Took. Fool of a Took."  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note: Did I tell you they were going to get better? ( Remember WAY back when I said I'd had writer's block? This chapter was the reason. I had just figured out what would trigger Sally's ultimate realization that she was Sam. After that I couldn't stop thinking of what that would do to her. Sitting down and writing her in the early chapters while she was still in blissful ignorance proved very difficult. But thanks to the wonderful support from you, the reader, I got over my problem.  
  
  
  
Thank you as always with your generous reviews.  
  
  
  
Chapter Twelve: "The Breaking of the Fellowship" Everyone recovers from their initial shock. Legolas helps Sally cope with her duality while Gandalf convinces Frodo that he should continue his quest without Sally. Meanwhile, Merry and Pippin discover the joys of cellular phones. 


	12. The Breaking of the Fellowship

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
'But I won't cry for yesterday. There's an ordinary world, somehow I have to find. And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world, I will learn to survive.'-"Ordinary World" by Duran Duran.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Twelve: The Breaking of the Fellowship  
  
The look upon Sally's face before she disappeared struck Frodo harder than any physical blow he had ever received. Fear, pain, confusion, she felt too much in one moment for her to express. No matter his intentions, he knew he had done this to her. He knew it was his fault. He took another step forward to follow her. He wanted more than anything to help, to bring order to the flood of memories that bombarded her. His was the only face she had known in this life and that.  
  
A strong but gentle touch to his shoulder stopped him. "You should let her go," Gandalf said. His voice was barely above a whisper.  
  
"I should explain," Frodo protested. He tried to twist himself out of the wizard's grip but he lacked the strength that his human glamour had once given him. He never regretted being small. He just had tired of everyone else being so much bigger.  
  
Gandalf's hand had tightened but not so much in restraint as in reassurance. "She has enough to deal with without having to endure another explanation."  
  
Reluctantly, Frodo relaxed. "You're right," he sighed. In his mind, he could picture Sally running away. She was upset but she would not go far. She would not leave. "I've pushed too much on her," he said looking up at the towering wizard. He managed a weak smile. He had to believe that she would be alright. As much as he had feared how the return of Sam's memories would affect Sally, he could not deny that he had longed for this. From the moment that he knew that this was possible, a part of him had wished for it, leaving the rest of him to feel guilty for the pain she felt because of it. "I'll give her some time."  
  
Gandalf shook his head sadly. "No, Frodo," he said gently. "You should let her go."  
  
Frodo felt his heart grow heavy as a lump formed in his throat. He understood what Gandalf had proposed but he didn't want to believe it. After coming so far, after struggling with the question himself, he could not part with her. Now that the thought came to him again, he didn't want to. "But." he said in a voice thick with emotion, "she's Sam."  
  
The wizard put his great arms around his friend. As he rested his hand on Frodo's head he could feel the effort the hobbit expelled to hold back his tears. "I know, Frodo, I know," he said bending over him. His larger frame almost seemed to shelter him. "You have suffered great loneliness without him."  
  
Of all of his existence, the accumulated experiences of centuries, one memory tormented him above all others. The enormity of his pain had nearly crushed him. Nothing could compare to losing Sam. Only the joy of meeting Sally came close. Before he realized it, he had begun to weep, sobbing like a small child holding fast to his father's knee. "I missed him so, Gandalf," he choked. "I never wanted."  
  
The rest of his words became lost in his tears.  
  
He still grieved. The loss was ever fresh in his mind, like a recurring nightmare that plagued him day and night. Sam's death stood almost as a monument in time. When he died, Frodo felt the goodness within himself die along with him. What remained of Frodo seemed only mere shadow, like a wraith, a pale, doomed reflection of the hobbit he had been.  
  
"You still must destroy the Ring," Gandalf said, reminding him of his purpose. He still held tightly to him not knowing if he provided any comfort in his presence or touch. He wanted his support to mean something to him now. No matter how painful his guidance must be, he would not fail him again. "It knows what you plan to do."  
  
"I know," Frodo sobbed.  
  
"If it can't influence you to change your mind, it will try to leave you," the wizard said in careful warning.  
  
"I know," he repeated. His tears had begun to subside. His voice became stronger. His weakness and fear of being alone began to yield to the truth in Gandalf's words. His emotion had clouded him to the bigger picture. He had forgotten the danger was not only his.  
  
Gandalf knelt down to look Frodo in the face. "You must continue alone," he said finally.  
  
Frodo met his eyes unwillingly and sniffled without shame. What shame could he have in sadness he felt so deeply? He thought of his road ahead and despair placed its weight upon his heart. Sally had given him a hope he thought only lived in faint memories. Alone, he would have the cold comfort of purpose to drive him to his goal. But as much as the separation would hurt him he could not bear the thought of what it would do to her. He had tried to leave her before and found he couldn't. "Sally will not understand," he said sadly, "We've already come so far."  
  
"It's not like before," Gandalf said. "Sam is human now, with all the strengths and frailties that come with it. The Ring will seek her out and she will not be able to resist it."  
  
Frodo shut his eyes and bent his head in shame. The Ring. Anything that had any meaning in his life revolved around the Ring. It had damned him. It had saved him. It had taken Sam from him. It had brought Sally to him. Now because of it he would have to leave her. He remembered Amon Hen and when he tried to leave the fellowship. He remembered Boromir's madness. Did his fate await Sally?  
  
With a human heart and the darkness of the world tainting her form, Sam no longer was the true company he had been before. Would the Ring drive Sam to betray his master? Frodo had to stop being selfish. He was far too old to desire such companionship over the fate of the world. Sally would have to understand. He was leaving her for her own sake.  
  
* * *  
  
Piper sat on the sidewalk wiping at her eyes with the palms of her hands. She looked up at the buildings and people that surrounded her with a purity of soul that astounded her. Amidst the confusion from the lifetime of old memories she found lost things that had eluded her in this life. Peregrin Took remembered well the shining towers of Minas Tirith.the White City. New York City dwarfed the memory like a colossus, with skyscrapers that looked down upon the clouds. Beautiful and terrible at the same time. Yet they seemed dirty, dark.tainted.  
  
She could see the result of man's bravado towards evil. The world had lost its innocence, and sadly so had she. She could not help but wonder if humanity would have made this choice to face the darkness if they had known what would become of them? She knew that she would not.he would not. Did that make her any less brave?  
  
That thought had sobered her enough to quell the last of her tears. Her hands had wet, black smears of lost mascara streaked across them. She stared at them, mesmerized by what had become of her, who she was once and who she was now and what had brought all of this to be. She could sit on that concrete for months and still the memories would not fall into place fittingly.  
  
But the world would not wait for her to adjust. Her cell phone began to ring cheerfully, ignorant to the fact that its owner neither wanted music nor cheer. She opened her receiver automatically and said, "Hello?"  
  
At first she heard only silence, just random background noise but a voice finally came through just as hesitant, just as lost as she felt. "Pip?"  
  
Merrick. All of Piper's tears came back in a rush, a flood that only allowed her to answer in sobs. Merry.  
  
Merrick's voice faltered. Adrift in a sea of recovered memory, he had shed his own tears. His world, which never fully made sense, had just taken a detour into madness. He reached out to the only person he knew would understand. "Something." he began haltingly. He almost told her that something was wrong but that didn't quite describe what he felt. "Something's happened to me."  
  
"It's real!" Piper cried in declaration. His experience only confirmed the actuality of her own. "It's not a dream." She could feel his doubt. He had to know who she was. He had to know who he was. He had to realize that they were once part of something sacred. A thought came to her suddenly, colliding her past and present lives in a way that chilled her. An image presented itself to her, offering a glimmer of explanation. She couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten. Her voice shook. "I saw him," she said quietly. "He's alive. I saw him." She closed her eyes, savoring the memory of her encounter. She could almost remember the feel of his arms around her, hugging her like old friends. He knew. She realized it now. He knew even when she was blissfully ignorant.  
  
Merrick continued to struggle, trying to put the pieces together as quickly as she. "Saw who?" he asked hesitantly through the phone.  
  
"Frodo."  
  
He knew the answer before she said it. It had simply become a pill too thick to swallow. Piper could almost see Merrick shaking his head in denial. He couldn't let go. He couldn't believe. "You.you couldn't have," he stammered. "It's not possible."  
  
"I saw him," Piper insisted. The image had burned itself into her mind and her heart, a precious treasure that she would keep forever. Would she ever she him again now that she knew everything? "He and Sally drove away in my car."  
  
"Sally." Merrick breathed. The thought trailed into silence. The name was enough.  
  
"Oh my God," Piper gasped, "Sam."  
  
Her life finally made sense. All those whom she loved, she had loved and cherished before. They had come back to her. They had come back together. No more searching. She knew exactly who she was. "This is really happening," she said. "You know that, don't you?"  
  
"I know. I know," he sighed. He could no longer deny it. He had held his fate at a distance, keeping it always out of reach of what he had believed was reality, away from who he thought he was supposed to be.  
  
"Why did this happen?" Piper asked. An edge of innocence had come to her voice. Old roles had begun to return to them. The younger hobbit looked to his older cousin for the answers his wisdom would grant him. "Why are we together? Why now?"  
  
"It's got to be Frodo," Merrick answered. The words sounded strange but felt right as he said them. "Frodo and the Ring."  
  
"You think Frodo brought us back?" she asked.  
  
"No," he replied gravely. Not the Frodo they remembered. The act seemed uncharacteristically selfish. Something more divine must have its hand in this. He thought of his dream. Some things began to make sense. Others knew them before they knew themselves. "But we're here because of him."  
  
Piper understood the direction of Merrick's thoughts. She saw their ultimate conclusion. "He's going to destroy it," she whispered. She closed her eyes with the realization, feeling a mixture of fear and relief over her old friend's actions. "He's finally going to destroy it."  
  
"And Sam will be with him," Merrick added, "just like before."  
  
"While we're left behind to fight his other battles," she agreed. The parallels between the past and present quests were painfully real. She clutched her cell phone tightly unable to express out loud the comfort she felt by knowing that she was not alone in this.  
  
Merrick thought the same. He wanted to see her smiling face, feel the reassuring tug on his arm. He knew that with her, he wouldn't feel so afraid. Perhaps, he could still change his mind. "Where are you?" he asked.  
  
Piper smiled sheepishly. She could have told him she was in any of her haunts in Chicago but after the truths they already shared, lying not longer seemed acceptable. "Manhattan," she admitted.  
  
"Piper!" Merrick shouted into the phone. "Are you following me?"  
  
"What did you expect me to do?" she cried. "Sit on your couch in Chicago? With what we know now, how can you leave me behind?"  
  
"I just wanted you safe," he said, knowing that was only a pitiful excuse. He wanted her with him now. Their lives were intertwined just as much as Frodo's was with Sam. A danger to one was a danger they all shared.  
  
"You can't fight fate, cousin," Piper said. "We're here for a reason."  
  
"I suppose I should tell you where I'm going," he replied.  
  
"Why?" she said, laughing. "Fate got me this far. I trust it to bring me the rest of the way."  
  
* * *  
  
A startled group of migrating birds first alerted Legolas to Sally's passing. Once the sound of their wingbeats faded in the distance he could hear her hurried footfalls. She was alone and something upsetting had chased her away from Gandalf's cottage. Curiosity and concern for her well being persuaded him to follow her.  
  
She had torn a path through the trees with such abandon that the elf needed no skill to find it. When her muffled cries and stumbling steps fell silent, he realized that she had stopped. Whether weariness or the return of calming thought had ended her flight, he did not know, but he took great care to approach her without alarming her.  
  
In a small clearing, Legolas found her sitting on the remains of a great fallen tree. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared with unfocused eyes at the ground. Whatever her thoughts, they consumed the whole of her attention. Concealed by his silence and the woods around him, he watched her. For the moment, Sally seemed to want to be alone. He waited patiently for the appropriate time to reveal his presence.  
  
Her face reflected a myriad of emotions. One by one, they graced her features as her mind turned over each thought. Peace eluded her. But out of this confusing storm within her came a sound from happier times. With sad notes and a strained voice, Sally began to sing. "I like New York in June. How about you?"  
  
Stepping out form the trees, the elf responded in kind. "I like a Gershwin tune. How about you?"  
  
Sally looked up at him in wonder. The song was a duet, but she never dreamed that she would sing it with him. "Master Legolas," she called to him. The sunlight illuminated the now dry trails her tears had taken down her face.  
  
"Hello Sally," he said in gentle greeting.  
  
She forced a polite smile and began to explain. "My mother hated housework," she said. "To pass the time, she always sang showtunes." She looked away from him, embarrassed at being discovered in such a state. Her brow wrinkled together in frustration. Her troubles became apparent. "I've tried so hard to remember one of your songs," she said. She frowned deeply, making her effort to remember so strong it became visible. "That song that Master Gimli sang in Moria or the one you sang outside of Lothlorien or any one of the dozens of songs Mister Frodo sang but." She paused as new tears spilled down her cheeks. She had given up her search to reach them. The defeat hurt her deeply. "But all I can sing are my mother's show tunes."  
  
The elf's features softened with sympathy. He sat down next to her, reaching for her hand to comfort her. He understood what troubled her now. "Perhaps you are trying too hard," he said.  
  
"This was the thing he wouldn't tell me," she said hoarsely. "This is what's been wrong with me from the start." She stood suddenly, pulling her hand from his grasp. A part of her wanted to weep openly and seek solace from her old friend. Another part of her wanted to run and hide until she could make sense of herself again. The conflict brought her to a halt leaving her unsure of how to act or what to do. "Nothing about me feels right anymore," she said in quiet defeat. "I'm either remembering things that never happened to me or I . look down at myself and I just don't . fit. Who am I supposed to be?"  
  
Legolas frowned at her description. "You speak as if you have to choose."  
  
"How can I be both?" Sally cried plaintively.  
  
"How can you not be?" he replied in calming tones. He stood to face her. "That is who you are. Samwise Gamgee is not just a part of you. You are Sam. Sally's life is not a separate one. It is a continuation."  
  
Her face contorted in sorrow. She felt as if she had been used, that she was a pawn in a scheme too grand for her mind to grasp. "Am I to be a slave to this fate?" she cried. "Don't I have a choice?"  
  
"You have always had a choice," Legolas said gently. "At the Council of Elrond, when Frodo volunteered to take the Ring to Mount Doom, what did you choose?"  
  
Sally closed her eyes as the memory washed over her. She remembered the fear she felt for her master as his small voice place him forth, declaring him as the Ringbearer. She remembered springing up from her hiding spot unable to let him go alone. "I chose to go with him," she whispered.  
  
"At Cirith Ungol," Legolas began, guiding her through the turmoil, "when you learned your master was alive and in the hands of the orcs, what did you choose?"  
  
A blackness poured into her heart at the thought. Time had stopped for her then. She had tortured herself over choices made in darkness of mind and heart. One choice she had never forgiven herself for. She should never have left him. No matter the outcome, she was still wrong. What she did was not brave. It was her attempt to make things right. "I chose to save him."  
  
Legolas' voice came to her like a beacon in the shadows. She followed it through her fears as it would lead her to the truth. "At the slopes of Mount Doom, when his feet would no longer bear him. What did you choose?"  
  
"I chose to carry him," she replied. She had nothing left to give him then. To carry him was not a humble sacrifice. It was an act of love and devotion.  
  
As was everything she did now.  
  
"No one is making you go with him," he said. "Even now it is your choice."  
  
Slowly, Sally opened her eyes. "I feel foolish," she said, almost smiling in embarrassment. She turned to Legolas. She was grateful for his wisdom. "It was right before me all along. For some reason, I fought against it."  
  
He smiled warmly at her and took her hands within his. "It's time to stop fighting and accept who you really are."  
  
She lifted her face to the sunlight and felt its warmth touch her skin. Throughout her journey she had not heard a voice that came from the past. It did not come from some part of her that she had denied. It was her voice. Always. Her voice. Her fears. Her memories. Her love. She was Sam. And Sam knew exactly where she was supposed to be.  
  
She raced back to the cottage with renewed joy. She couldn't wait to see her master again. All her confusion had left her and she wondered why she ever had any doubts. She wanted desperately to tell him this, for up this point she felt all she had done was worry him. But she was alright now. She was his Sam again and they were together. At the end of all things.  
  
She sprang through the wizard's door. "I'm here, Mister Frodo!" she cried happily. "I'm alright now."  
  
Gandalf looked to her sadly. The fire had died leaving the cabin in darkness. He was alone. "He's gone, Sally."  
  
TBC  
  
Author's Note: Hey, what a long wait! You never realize how much you need ffn until it goes on the fritz. Being without your fantastic feedback really slowed me up but I have wonderful things in store you guys. I have chapter 13 already finished and it should be posted in the next couple of days. To answer Princess Artemis' question, there will be 17 chapters in all. The last three chapters will be a total angst fest. To answer Nix's question, I'm sorry but I don't have plans for Tom Bombadil to make an appearance, but hey, you never know. I could be hit with sudden inspiration before I'm done. ;)  
  
Chapter Thirteen: "A Journey into Darkness"-Sally has some choice words for Gandalf as Frodo makes his way through Moria. 


	13. A Journey into Darkness

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Thirteen: A Journey into Darkness  
  
Bitter tears stung her eyes as Sally turned from Gandalf's cabin. She ran blindly into the woods for the second time on that cold, unfriendly day, but this time she didn't run away. She ran towards something with all the hope she had left in her to find.  
  
Her steps faltered and she stopped. The trees seemed to look down at her like uncaring strangers. "Where.?" she asked them in a trembling voice. A horrible realization began to sink in. A crushing sense of helplessness pulled her to the ground. "Where do I go?!" she cried in despair.  
  
She was lost. Frodo had left his Sam. She couldn't follow him. She didn't know the way. She sobbed, beating the ground with her fists. "Damn this memory!" she cried, cursing herself and all living things around her. "Nothing looks like it's supposed to."  
  
"Centuries have passed since you last walked these trails," Gandalf said from behind her. "Much has changed here," he explained gently. "You have changed."  
  
Sally looked up from the ground, a great darkness cast across her face. She did not welcome the sound of the wizard's voice. She suspected his work in the absence of her master. "You did this! Didn't you?!" she howled at him in fury. She twisted to face him, clawing at the dirt beneath her to lash out at him in her rage. "You made him go alone! Why?!?"  
  
Gandalf did not move but he looked upon her with great pity. "You should know already," he said. "Your heart is willing but you will be weak. In the end your companionship will be more of a danger to him than a comfort."  
  
"No," she whimpered at his feet.  
  
"The Ring will seduce you."  
  
She shook her head denying the words before the truth could sink in. "I don't care," she sobbed. "I can resist it." She would not allow herself to doubt. If she doubted then she could never follow him. If she couldn't follow him, then what purpose did her life hold?  
  
Gandalf slammed the end of his staff into the ground near her head. "Samwise Gamgee!" he roared over her in a sudden fury designed to get her attention. "Look at yourself! You're human!"  
  
Sally looked up at his overwhelming form with sullen eyes. "My body is," she admitted woundedly. "Perhaps my heart. But not my soul." She pulled herself up to her feet. She did not want to appear powerless or afraid before him. "You forget, wizard, I wore that Ring once. I've felt its power. I've heard its voice. Can you say the same?"  
  
"No, I cannot," he replied calmly, "but can you deny the darkness that exists within you?" He stepped closer to her, looking down at her with cold eyes. "I know what you hide in your coat. The Samwise I remember would not have brought it to Middle Earth let alone hide it from his master."  
  
Her eyes widened at his accusation but she could not deny it. She couldn't even properly explain it. "I was afraid," she said in a much smaller voice than before.  
  
"You are ashamed," Gandalf observed. His gaze and posture softened before the sorrowful young woman. He could only imagine how the hobbit within her had weathered in the world she lived. Her loneliness rivaled Frodo's. "Even the purity of your soul could not keep you from the corruption of your world." He reached out and touched the point of her chin with his fingertips, a tender gesture for one whose pain he felt.  
  
"It doesn't matter," she said grimacing. She struggled to hold back another wave of disabling tears. "Why else would I be here if not to be with him?"  
  
Gandalf frowned and his hand left her face. She only saw her significance in the role of servant. She didn't know how truly important her presence really was. He brought his hands together around his staff and he looked at her carefully. "Why do you think he chose now to destroy the Ring?"  
  
Sally flinched. She had not expected the question. She thought the answer was obvious. "Because of Saruman," she replied.  
  
The wizard shook his head and almost chuckled. His old foe had filled the role of bogeyman well enough that she never questioned her master's reasoning. But Saruman was merely a convenient excuse. "He could have destroyed Saruman with a thought," he said, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. He stepped closer to her and his eyes locked with hers. "It was you. Your returning. He could not bear the thought of you living in a world where the Ring still existed."  
  
Sally's tears fell silently at the profound realization.  
  
Gandalf looked away to a bird taking flight. Something in her expression made her difficult to face. "No one counted on that. Not even me. You were always so demonstrative of your devotion to him. No one could see how much he loved you in return."  
  
Her breaths came in short quavering sobs. She shut her eyes but the tears would not stop. She felt Gandalf's arms encircle her. Softly, his words continued to fall upon her ears. She could not shut them out. Her insignificance was tantamount to her reality, to her sense of self. But to hear this, shattered all that. In her world she could not be this important. "All that he has done, he has done for you. Destroying the Ring is not something he is doing for himself. It is not for the world. It is for your sake and your sake alone."  
  
His hand cupped her cheek and he turned her face up to his. She looked at him unwillingly, shamed by her weakness, humbled by her greatness. "As much as he loves you and as much as you love him, you cannot go with him now," he said gently. "The Ring will take that love and turn it against you, destroying what is good in you both to assure its continued existence."  
  
Sally began to pull away. She knew the wisdom of Gandalf's words and she could feel uncertainty begin to build within her. These must have been the same arguments he had used on Frodo that caused him to leave without her. They had begun to work on her. She shook her head to shake away her doubt. She couldn't let him win. He had to be forgetting something, something that would convince him that they were meant to be together. "I know what that Ring can do," she said trying to build a confidence in her voice that she had misplaced. "It lures you with promises of power and glory. I've seen it. But it will have no sway over me. I don't care what it offers. I don't want it. All I care about is him. I was with him before. I alone know what he faces. I'm the only one who can help him."  
  
Gandalf sighed heavily. The depth of Sally's feelings touched him greatly but he remained unmoved on his resolve. Each believed that they knew what was best for the Ringbearer but their conflicting views only brought them to a stalemate.  
  
But they were not alone. Legolas emerged from the trees and stood before them both. He had heard their heated argument and allowed them the illusion of privacy but no longer. He could no longer remain silent. "There is divine purpose in her presence here. She performs a sacred duty that is so powerful that it should not be denied." He faced Gandalf with a princely pride and spoke with a wisdom he had earned over centuries of life. "If you will not lead her to Moria, then I shall."  
  
For several moments, no one spoke or moved. Gandalf fixed them with a fierce gaze, silently damning them as fools. Then he turned his back on them and leaned heavily on his staff. "So be it," he said gravely. "Let us hope that love shall conquer all."  
  
Sally let out a long breath, feeling relieved and frightened all at once. She stepped towards the wizard and placed her hand on his shoulder. She could feel the old man tense at her touch. "Thank you," she said timidly. "I won't fail him."  
  
Sally had begun to follow Legolas away when Gandalf's booming voice called out to her. "Sally." She stopped but did not turn to face him. "Be brave.but not too brave."  
  
She shook at the warning. "I understand," she replied quietly. She swallowed her fears and dismissed her doubts and followed the elf into the woods.  
  
Gandalf listened to their footsteps as they faded in the distance. In that instant he felt very old, as if all the many years of his life piled upon him one by one adding their weight to his soul. He really had no certainty that Frodo would have succeeded without Sally but foreknowledge had haunted him from the moment he saw her face.  
  
Frodo loved her with all the unspoken words he had kept for Sam. The Ring knew that and before he would reach Mount Doom, it would use that love against him. Out of love for Sally, Frodo would wield the Ring again.  
  
* * *  
  
The darkness of Moria enveloped Frodo like a blanket, covering sight, sound and even breath. He saw only the way before him illuminated by his torchlight and heard only the sound of his own steps. The air was thick and close and when he breathed deeply he could taste the scent of distant fires. He welcomed the muting of his senses and hoped that it would bring peace to his mind. Though many years had passed since he walked these tunnels, he knew them well. This time he walked alone.  
  
'To be a Ringbearer is to be alone.' He had once believed that Galadriel's words were a warning but now he saw her true intent. She was instructing him. A warning can be dismissed, as he had dismissed it when he let Sam go with him into Mordor. He had learned his lesson then. With Sally, he had begun to forget. He must be alone. No one can understand his pain. No one could see his burden. With the Ring gone, all that would disappear with it. No more suffering. No more fear. No more.  
  
Morbidly, he believed that his new train of thought would quicken his step. He should look forward to the end of his quest but he walked slowly. His pace was slowed by the heaviness of his heart. He missed Sally.  
  
Frodo stopped suddenly in his tracks. His sadness was momentarily forgotten as the hair on the back of his neck bristled with anticipation. He sensed movement ahead of him though he saw and heard nothing.  
  
A deep voice bellowed from the pitch around him. "Ho! Who goes forth in this darkness without our leave?!" The dwarves had discovered him.  
  
"Only I," Frodo called out.  
  
A dwarf stepped into the light of his torch, allowing himself to be seen. He held his axe across his chest as a show of strength and courage to the intruder to their home. "Who might you be, little man?" he asked in challenge.  
  
"I am not a man," Frodo replied. He held his arms open to reveal that he carried no weapon, to show he posed no threat. "I am Frodo, the Ringbearer."  
  
The dwarf relaxed his grip on his axe and stepped closer into the light. "Aye. The elf gave word that you would come through," he said nodding. He extended his hand in welcome. A gesture Frodo readily accepted. "I am Gorin, son of Olog. Come. We've been waiting for you."  
  
Gorin led Frodo a distance through the tunnels to a large opening where several dwarves had set up camp. The dwarves did not make a habit of dwelling in the caverns and tunnels towards the entrance. They had little need to venture away from their city except in small hunting parties. Their distrust of the outside world had grown to a point of intense xenophobia. Where once they held only elves in low regard they now cared nothing for any of the other races. The elves were little more than a nuisance, passing through Moria like silent spirits coming to and from Middle Earth and the world of man.  
  
Humans, they abhorred above all others for their brazen and misguided willingness to live in a world of evil. Though they had not seen a man in centuries they had fixed their likeness in their minds and took upon themselves the responsibility of keeping humanity's darkness from tainting Middle Earth.  
  
Hobbits existed only in legend. Only one hobbit lived in the world and all in Moria knew him.  
  
Frodo looked around at the encampment. They had begun to feast upon a spitted boar. They seemed to celebrate his coming, taking the hobbit by the arm or shoulder and shaking him with affection. He smiled at the warmth and familiarity of the welcome but as they drew him closer to their circle around their fire he felt an uncomfortable impatience rise in him.  
  
Frodo turned to Gorin as he raised his hands up in mild protest. "I do not wish to refuse your hospitality but I am anxious to complete my task." He grimaced at the absurdity of his statement. He could hardly believe that he could be in a convincing hurry to do something that he had put off for centuries.  
  
Gorin nodded and clapped his hand on the hobbit's back. "We understand, Master Ringbearer," he said as he signaled to his kinsmen. "Allow us to assemble a small party to accompany you and we shall be on our way."  
  
Frodo's discomfort rose greatly at this news. The only company he desired he had left in the wilderness of Trollveggen. "Is that really necessary?" he asked apprehensively. "I do not wish to be a burden."  
  
"Orcs still inhabit the deeper tunnels," the dwarf said gravely. He sensed the hobbit's reluctance and added graciously, "You would honor us if you would accept our company."  
  
Frodo sighed and forced a smile. He had not considered the possibility of encountering orcs. A party of dwarves would be a welcome alternative to having to defend himself from attacking goblins. "Then I will accept it gratefully," he said finally.  
  
If his circumstances had not been so dire, he could appreciate the irony of his situation. He's out to destroy the Ring with a fellowship of dwarves much as his uncle Bilbo discovered the Ring centuries ago.  
  
From across the fire a dwarf watched Frodo intensely. His beard was barely half the length of the others, indicating his youth, but his heart beat with a desire that belied the years of his young life. From as far back as he could remember he had wanted to prove himself not just in the eyes of his elders and peers but in his own eyes. His worth seemed tainted by some act of shame that escaped his memory, a phantom that visited him in his dreams but escaped upon waking.  
  
This day changed all that. He understood now and with one look at the Ringbearer he knew what he had to do.  
  
The others had gathered together and had begun to select which and how many of them would continue with the hobbit. The young dwarf sidled up to his father, Woton, who had just volunteered to lead. Unlike the others he stood pensively, shaking with expectation as he voiced his plea. "Father, let me come."  
  
Woton looked down at his son with a furrowed brow. He had begun to regret giving in to his insistence about coming on the scouting party. He would no be so malleable with this greater danger looming ahead. "I know you are eager, lad," he said, laying his heavy hand on his son's shoulder, "but today is not the day for you to test your strength."  
  
The young dwarf frowned, frustrated at the dismissal. His father didn't understand. He wasn't looking for a youthful contest to show his skill. He desired something deeper, more meaningful than honor or legacy. He wanted redemption. "I care nothing for orcs," he said hotly. "This is.this is important to me."  
  
Woton pulled him aside. He saw the young dwarf's enthusiasm and he knew he needed to guide that intensity without quelling it. "I admire your sense of duty but you are too young to meet your fate," he said sternly. A great uncertain danger lay ahead. They could be hurt. They could be killed. He was not yet ready for his son to wield his axe in battle. He leaned in close and said in his ear, "A time will come and you will hear your destiny call to you in a voice so clear that none of us will deny you. But now is not that time."  
  
He looked up at his father with dismay as frustration tied his stomach in knots. Nothing he could say would convince him to change his mind. To tell of the real reason why he wanted to come would make him sound mad. "Yes, Father," he said sadly. "I will stay with the camp."  
  
Silently he watched them go. He could not follow and he could not hide his disappointment at being left behind. He prayed that his chance would come and listened for the clear voice of destiny to call his name.  
  
* * *  
  
Sally had followed behind Legolas for nearly an hour. The sun had dipped low below the horizon and the moon had begun to rise like a beacon in the evening sky. She walked without thought to time or place, simply placing one foot before the other in step with the elf. Her mind had left the present to a less friendly past, a place where she could look on her decisions from the critical clarity of the present. She knew she had made mistakes before. She hoped that she could learn from them now.  
  
She had lost herself in her thoughts so deeply she had not realized that Legolas had stopped until she nearly ran into him. She looked to him in surprise. "You're stopping?" she asked innocently.  
  
He had turned away from her, regarding his surroundings with a quiet respect. He knew these woods well. "The Gates are ahead," he announced. "I want to give you something." He pulled the pack off of his shoulders and reached inside to retrieve something gray, folded carefully and precisely. He held it out to Sally. "Here, take this."  
  
Sally took his offering into her hands. The familiarity of the feel of the fabric caused an almost electric reaction in her. She almost gasped in response.  
  
"Do you recognize it?" Legolas asked.  
  
Sally could barely breathe. "An elven cloak from Lothlorien," she whispered. "You've kept it all this time."  
  
The elf came to her then and laid his hand on the cloak, feeling its texture beneath his fingertips. "This was mine," he said softly. He looked down at the cloak fondly with remembrance of adventures long ago. That time had passed, as had the players in a way. "I give it to you."  
  
She glanced up at him with alarm. "Why?"  
  
"Yours will no longer fit you," he said simply and totally without humor.  
  
Her eyes filled with a sudden fear, a feeling she could not explain. "You're not coming," she stated.  
  
Legolas shook his head in acknowledgement. He took the cloak from her arms and unfurled it before her. "It's not to punish you or Frodo," he said. "I simply am not meant to go. You are fated to be by his side. I am not, no matter that I want to with all of my heart."  
  
As he draped the cloak around her, she felt a familiar sense of loneliness descend upon her. "You were part of the Fellowship," she said plaintively. "If you truly wish to come, I won't oppose you." A bitterness pulled at her. This was unfair. She couldn't make him come with her but she couldn't understand why he wouldn't. She realized that she wasn't angry with him. She was afraid. "I don't want to go through the mines alone."  
  
He smiled in sympathy as his fingers worked to fasten the green leaf brooch. "Each of us has a task to perform in this quest," he told her. "Mine has completed while yours has just begun. Your strides are longer in this life. You will not be alone for long." His hands left her and he reached into his pack again. This time he held a crumpled piece of parchment. He handed this to Sally as well. "I do not possess great skill at mapmaking, but if you follow this route, you should avoid contact with the dwarves."  
  
Sally unfolded the parchment to reveal a map of the Mines of Moria. Even in the pale moonlight, she could see the intricacy of the drawings. While Legolas regarded his work modestly, almost apologetically, she could see the painstaking detail placed in the creation of this document. The beauty of it caught her eye but the warning remained in her mind. Gandalf had had a similar warning about the dwarves. "What will they do with me if they find me?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know," he answered. His voice was cautious, quiet. He really didn't know.  
  
Sally frowned unhappily. "That's not very comforting," she replied.  
  
"I have nothing of comfort left to give you," Legolas said softly, "save this." He laid his hands gently on her shoulders and leaned in close. His lips tenderly brushed against her forehead, lingering there for a moment, prolonging their farewell. Sally swallowed hard as she felt the blood rush to her face.  
  
As he parted from her, she saw that his elven demeanor had slipped, replaced by great sadness at their parting. Sally took a backwards step. At the moment, she could not tell which of them was leaving. He would not go. She could not stay. Feeling the inexorable press of time she forced her mouth to work. "Good-bye Legolas," she said.  
  
Legolas raised his hand. "Fare thee well, Sally," he called to her.  
  
She turned towards the walls of Moria and pulled her cloak around her for warmth. Her mind stumbled to try to find the words to a song that would commemorate the occasion but the songs from the time before were lost to her. Before she even realized her own actions, she had raised her voice in a melody. The sound that came from her was sweeter and more heartfelt than she had ever been capable of.  
  
Even as he moved away from her through the woods, Legolas could hear her sing. He paused, closed his eyes and let the feeling of the words wash over him.  
  
"These tears I've cried, I've cried a thousand oceans. And if it seems I'm floating in darkness, Well, I can't believe that I would keep, Keep you from flying. And I would cry a thousand more, If that's what it takes to sail you home. I'm aware what the rules are, But you know that I will run. You know that I will follow you. Over Silbury Hills, through the Solar Fields, You know that I will follow you."  
  
TBC  
  
This chapter contains lyrics from "1,000 Oceans" by Tori Amos.  
  
Author's Note: I'm sorry that I didn't get this chapter up sooner. I had wanted to get a better start on Chapter 14 before I posted 13. It will still be about a week before I finish 14. Some cool revelations come up in this chapter and I want to treat them with care before I begin the big angstfest of the last three chapters. The title is subject to change. I'm having trouble keeping up with mirroring the FOTR title chapters.  
  
Chapter 14: "The Old Mines"-Through fortunes both ill and good, Sally and Frodo will be reunited.  
  
I will try to make it worth the wait. 


	14. The Old Mines

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Fourteen: The Old Mines  
  
Sally extinguished the light from her flashlight at the first sound of the deep-throated voices behind her. She crouched low in the shadows and prayed that no one heard her as well. She closed her eyes and childishly willed herself to be invisible.  
  
Legolas had drawn a very good map but no one had planned for the dwarves to deviate from their normal practices. In her blind, human stupidity she had almost walked into the middle of their camp. She had caught a glimpse of their firelight before she turned back on her trail.  
  
The hobbit within her had forgotten that she was supposed to be afraid of dwarves.  
  
But in her clumsiness, she made her presence known. The sound of heavy footfalls followed the voices and both grew louder and closer. Fear pounded her heart hard against her chest. As much as she wanted to run, she knew it was pointless. The only path away from the dwarves led back to the world of man, away from Frodo. She had to reach him, or die trying.  
  
She clapped her hands over her head as the dwarves set upon her and hoped that they would be merciful and quick in their judgment. Two hands grabbed her roughly and dragged her through the blackness, back towards the camp. A voice from above her called to his kinsmen in chilling tones. Sally didn't recognize the words but she knew they concerned her. She did not fight them or try to escape. She was already in enough danger.  
  
The light from their fire illuminated her sight as she stumbled into the midst of their camp. She glanced around quickly and counted five dwarves before another pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her into the wall. The action happened so quickly that she didn't bring up her arms to catch herself. Her face hit the wall before the rest of her followed. She felt an odd snap in her nose and for the briefest of moment saw a shower of shimmering stars. Her knees buckled beneath her and she sank to the ground.  
  
"How did you get in here, human?!" a voice from behind her demanded.  
  
A wave of nausea followed the spreading pain in her head. She struggled to keep what little of her senses had not smashed against the cave wall but could not muster the coherency to answer. She could only moan in reply.  
  
Another voice, more soft-spoken, said with alarm, "Look, she wears to elf's cloak."  
  
"Maybe she killed him," the first replied with disgust.  
  
From the proximately of his voice, she knew he had come closer. Her body reeled with the anticipation of further abuse. She forced her head to lift and her mouth to speak. "No!" she cried, "You don't understand. He gave it to me!"  
  
Though her vision had blurred in her right eye, she could now see six dwarves surrounding her. They regarded her as if humans were incapable of speech. Either they did not hear her or they did not care. The three closest to her hefted their axes menacingly. One used the handle to poke at her like a caged zoo animal.  
  
Her wincing reaction caused him to chuckle. "Look at her," he remarked, "a weakling like that wouldn't have been able to blink at him."  
  
Sally tried to take a deep, steadying breath but her nose was ruined. To try to breathe through it took her down a road of pain that threatened her consciousness. As she opened her mouth, she could taste her blood on her lips. "Please," she said, forcing calm into her voice, "I'm here for the Ringbearer.I'm here for Frodo." She raised her hands to them in supplication. Somehow, she had to make them listen. "Please, I have to find him."  
  
"Why?" a new voice asked from the back of the group. "Why must you find him?" This dwarf stepped forward and met her eyes with an intensity that made Sally unable to look away. Strangely, she noted that his beard was significantly shorter than the others.  
  
"Because." Her mind labored over a convincing answer. She then realized only the truth would fit this. "Because he can't do it alone," she said quietly. Tears burned in her eyes. "I have to help him."  
  
The short bearded dwarf approached her and the others parted to let him closer. He bent down on one knee before her and studied her with an unreadable expression. She did not take her eyes away from him. Out of respect or out of fear, even she did not know. As he looked at her, she knew he would decide her fate.  
  
Finally, he lifted his axe and Sally felt the color drain from her face.  
  
"Let her be," he ordered. "I take her under my protection." He turned to face the others, his brothers, and stood between her and them, displaying his weapon to show he meant what he said.  
  
The other dwarves stared at him in disbelief. "Boz, have you lost your mind?" one of them asked. "She's human. They can't be trusted." He spoke these last statements in harsh whispers as if the words themselves were scandalous.  
  
"So she's human," her defender scoffed, "so she comes from a place of evil. We have heard many tales where evil springs out of goodness. Cannot the opposite happen?" He stepped towards them as he explained and they backed away from him unsteadily. They looked to him as if his compassion towards the human were some contagious disease. "The elf must have known this. How else can you explain the cloak? He sent it with her as a sign. I believe her and I will lead her to the Ringbearer."  
  
An elder dwarf came forward and rested his hand on the younger's arm. "Boz- -" he began in a placating tone.  
  
Boz wrenched his arm out of the other's grasp. "Don't," he said warningly. He hefted his axe between them. "I know what I am doing."  
  
One by one, the others turned their backs on him and the human he chose to protect. Each packed their belongings together and without a word to their brother, they left. Boz watched them go without expression, standing before Sally with his axe in hand, ready to defend her if need be.  
  
Sally kept silent, fearing that anything she could say would only make the situation more difficult. She stared at her benefactor in bewilderment. He had alienated his people for her and she didn't know why.  
  
When at last the other dwarves left the campsite, Boz relaxed and began his own task of gathering his belongings.  
  
Sally ventured to speak. "Your decision isn't a very popular one," she remarked softly.  
  
"I care nothing for popularity," he replied without looking at her. Obviously he didn't protect her because he liked humanity.  
  
Still, whatever his reason, Sally was unspeakably grateful. "Thank you. You saved--"  
  
"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. He had turned his intense eyes upon her and fear crept back into her heart.  
  
"Uh, I," she stammered, "My name is Sally. I'm--"  
  
"That's not what I meant," he snapped impatiently. He took two broad strides towards her and lifted her up by the cowl of her cloak. "Who are you really?"  
  
Sally trembled as his hot breath fell upon her. The right side of her face throbbed from the delicate contact. "I don't understand," she whispered in reply.  
  
Boz looked at her closely as he had before he took her under his protection. He almost seemed to be looking for something, beyond the surface, a point of recognition. Others had looked at her this way before. "You're one of them, aren't you?" he asked her roughly. "One of the little ones. Which one?"  
  
She swallowed hard. She understood. "Sam."  
  
He released his hold on her immediately. His expression softened and he almost seemed to smile. He reached up and touched the undamaged side of her face with a calloused hand. "I should have known," he said softly. "I can see it, you know. There, in your eyes."  
  
Gently, she pulled his hand away from her. Only members of the Fellowship had been able to even guess at who she was. What would this dwarf know of her destiny? "How?" she asked.  
  
He chuckled softly at her wariness. "I wondered if I was the only one," he said. Then, he became solemn, remembering a shame he had been unable to share before. He looked down at his hands, lying open in his lap. They craved a gentleness he had not found with his kinsmen, a touch of understanding that could only come from one who knew his suffering. "I thought that I was here to atone for my weakness," he admitted quietly.  
  
Sally's heart swelled with her realization. She recognized him at once. She was no longer alone. "You're Boromir," she breathed.  
  
Her hands reached out to him and he took them. Though they had not shared a closeness in their previous lives, they embraced now, for they had a common bond so deep they could not express it with words. Boromir began to laugh warmly as he patted her on the back. "So, Master Samwise," he said, happy in the reunion. "We surely are a sorry lot. A juvenile dwarf and a human female. Why do you think we're here?"  
  
Sally parted from him and smiled wistfully. "Perhaps you're not the only one seeking atonement."  
  
* * *  
  
After they picked up the gear and extinguished the fire, they deserted the campsite, leaving the small cavern uninhabited once again. So few traveled through this part of Moria that years could pass before fire would light those walls again, and yet in the dust, the footprints of dwarves and human would remain untouched and forgotten.  
  
Sally tucked Legolas' map into her pack. She no longer needed it. She couldn't have imagined a better guide through the twisting, rising, sloping trails laced through the center of this mountain. As she followed, paces behind him, she watched him intently, searching for traces of the man he had once been. The way he held his head, the slope of his shoulders, his stride, all these things echoed the past.  
  
She wondered how she resembled her former self.  
  
"We are only trailing them by a few hours," Boromir called back to her.  
  
She broke from her reverie. "You saw him?" she asked. That possibility had not occurred to her. She had thought that the dwarves' presence on her path had just been her bad luck but now she saw the sense in it. Of course he would have seen Frodo. They were waiting for him.  
  
He nodded. "My father is leading the group to take him to the other side." He slowed a moment, reflecting on his statement. "That feels strange, saying that to you. My father."  
  
Sally couldn't repress her growing smile. "How does it feel to be a dwarf?" she asked.  
  
He glanced back at her with mischievous warning. "How does it feel to be a woman?"  
  
She looked down at her trail thoughtfully, considering the question. "Different," she replied finally, "but not altogether unfamiliar. I've only known that I'm Sam for less than a day."  
  
Boromir nodded again. He understood well the feelings behind her words. "There had always been something missing from my life. A wrongness that I could never repair," he explained, "but today-clarity. It was as if I took my last breath on Amon Hen and then opened my eyes here."  
  
Sally stopped. She looked at the dwarf in front of her with sad realization. "Amon Hen.?" she asked in a quavering breath. In order for her to see him in this life, the other had to end.  
  
"The Uruk-Hai," he explained matter of factly. "Trying to take the Ring from Frodo was nearly the last thing I did."  
  
He did not hear Sally's footsteps behind him and he turned to see the reason. He saw her shaking, leaning against the left wall of the tunnel for support. He ran back to her and found her bruised, puffy face streaming with tears. "Sam?" He took her hand. His voice was full of concern. She would not look at him.  
  
"I." she began unsteadily. "I didn't know that you had died."  
  
Boromir looked at her with astonishment. She wept for events of distant past as if they were fresh and occurred before her eyes. The sentiment touched him but he knew that it was misplaced. He took her chin gingerly in his free hand and turned her face until she had no choice but to meet his eyes. "Do not grieve for me, Master Samwise," he told her with a robustness that could only come from a dwarf. "In this life, I still live."  
  
* * *  
  
They had begun their journey in song and jubilation but now the dwarves' voices fell silent. Gorin leaned close to Frodo and whispered in explanation, "We are nearing orc territory. We should try not to alert them to our presence."  
  
The hobbit nodded in agreement. Orcs were a fixture of his past that he did not wish to see again. He had often marveled at their continued existence. Despite their repeated defeats in battle and their often perilous proximity to extinction, they possessed a stubborn will to survive. The dwarves almost tolerated their presence in Moria. Unlike humans, the orcs held no hidden agenda. They wore their evil like a banner.  
  
Frodo sometimes believed that the dwarves were secretly happy to have them there. If they ever succeeded in driving the orcs out of Moria entirely, the mines might become too quiet.  
  
Woton stopped their party with a gesture. Each in line tilted their head to listen. Frodo strained to hear but the sounds that came to his ears were indistinct. He would have dismissed them easily but their leader gave another silent signal which caused each dwarf to make axe and shield ready.  
  
The events which followed happened too quickly for the hobbit to assimilate. A shower of arrows scattered among them causing the party to raise their shields in a united defense. The air filled with the deafening howls of the orcs who descended upon them from the path ahead.  
  
The dwarves pressed around Frodo forcing him backwards through the tunnel. His instinct to join the fray drove him to feel for his sword before his conscious mind reminded him he had given it to another. He watched the battle helplessly as he realized these valiant dwarves were his only defense.  
  
No. 'You are not helpless,' a familiar voice called to him. 'You are the most powerful being in the world.' Of its own volition, his hand reached for his pocket.  
  
But fate had other plans for him. The ground shifted beneath his feet. He had only the briefest moment to cry out before the floor gave way entirely, dropping him to the darkness and uncertainty of the tunnel below.  
  
* * *  
  
Sally panted with every step as she trailed behind Boromir. Each breath was a raspy struggle to bring the stale cave air into her weary lungs. She had stopped speaking nearly an hour before. To speak and breathe had become too much of an effort for her.  
  
Boromir stopped in a small cavern ahead of her and dropped his pack and weapons to the floor. "We will make camp here," he announced.  
  
"Why?" Sally asked.  
  
"Why?" he snorted in response. "Because you need rest."  
  
She bent forward and leaned her hands on her knees. She shook her head. This was all the rest she wanted. "You said we were close," she argued, pulling herself upright. "I don't want to stop until we reach them."  
  
Boromir stepped towards her and lifted his torch to illuminate her battered face. She could see him scrutinize her every feature and she tried to make herself look convincingly strong. He frowned at her effort. She had failed his inspection. "I don't like the sound of your breathing," he said at last.  
  
Sally looked away guiltily. "I'm fine," she lied as she pulled in another wheezing breath. "I think my nose is broken," she offered as a weak excuse.  
  
"It is broken," he confirmed. He turned back to his gear. "But your nose is not what concerns me, little one."  
  
Suddenly, the stone walls that surrounded them shook. Although the sensation was everywhere, a rumbling sound issued from the path ahead of them. "What was that?" Sally asked in a harsh whisper. Her eyes had grown wide with fear.  
  
"Orcs," he growled. "They've begun digging out the rock to make the tunnels weak. They set a trap and someone's fallen into it." He scooped up his shield and axe and abandoned the rest of his belongings as he returned to the trail.  
  
He ran and Sally followed.  
  
* * *  
  
So much dust had settled at the collapse of the tunnel that hobbit blended almost too well with the surrounding rock. He laid very still with his face hidden behind his left arm. His mop of dark brown curls had turned gray with a layer of camouflaging dirt and the rest of him laid buried beneath the trail he once walked upon. Very little of his unconscious form remained visible to anyone who might look for him there. Had Frodo been able to see his predicament he might have despaired of his rescue.  
  
Perhaps he had already despaired. Perhaps this unnatural sleep was his reaction, a self-imposed enchantment only to be broken at his will. In sleep, he could dream and surely in his dreams he could fare better than this.  
  
"Mister Frodo?"  
  
He could hear Sam calling to him, but his voice sounded strange. Higher. Not Sam.  
  
Sally.  
  
He dared to open his eyes. He moved his arm away from his face as he could feel the weight of the rocks leaving his small body. He couldn't believe what he saw. He had to still be dreaming.  
  
"Sally.?"  
  
She crouched before him amidst the broken rocks, peering down at him with concern. Her face was wet with tears and .blood? She had taken a beating. He reached up and touched her cheek to confirm her presence. She had been hurt.  
  
But she was here. She was real and she was here. Together with him again.  
  
"Stand ready, Master Samwise," a young dwarf called from behind her. Frodo recognized him vaguely as Woton's son. He had his axe and shield held ready to defend them. His eyes stared intently at the darkness ahead of him.  
  
Sally turned in response. She spread her arms protectively over Frodo. "They're coming."  
  
No. Not now. Not when everything is going to be alright again. Without another thought, Frodo reached for the Ring.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's Note: I didn't give this chapter my usual write-over, proofreading. I hope it doesn't show. The next chapter may take some time. I've planned for 15 to be a showstopper and that's going to take some dedication. It may also be extra long. I might break it up into two chapters but I won't post it until everything I have planned is written just the way I want it. Nothing but the best for you. In a way, guys it's going to be the beginning of the end. Only three chapters to go.  
  
Chapter Fifteen: "The Mirror of the Soul"-A life is saved and a soul is lost. Also, Piper and Merrick's story comes to an end. 


	15. The Mirror of the Soul, Part One

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Fifteen: The Mirror of the Soul, Part One  
  
Sally caught Frodo's hand. He looked at her in muted surprise. She knew his intentions and would not let him risk further corruption. Most of his awareness remained buried in the rubble. Frodo himself was not surprised. She saw the Ring's reaction. She reached within her coat. The wicked device that would save them from the danger would be her own.  
  
BOOM!! BOOM!! Their small tunnel exploded with sound. An eerie silence followed. All the combatants stood frozen in the moment, jolted into immobility by a new fear, fear of the unknown. Something made that deafening sound. Something killed two orcs, blasting wide holes in their bodies, allowing their dark blood to seep into the ground.  
  
When Sally was ten years old, her uncle took her and her brothers to the shooting range. She remembered how proud she felt when she shot the 22- gauge rifle with the scope. She took fifteen minutes to line up her shot but when she pulled the trigger, she got a bull's-eye. Shooting targets was fun. It was a game of skill and coordination. As a child, she didn't view the guns that were weapons and the guns that you shoot in target practice as the same tools. She had been a skilled marksman for years.  
  
Today she used that talent to kill. Another innocence stripped away by the darkness of her world.  
  
Boromir watched with stunned amusement as the orcs fled the tunnel in terror. However pleased he felt at their departure, a part of him felt their fear. He knew no more of this frightening weapon than they did. He only had the comfort that it would not be used on him. He turned to see Sally slowly lower her arm. In her hand she held a small, dark, metallic object with a curved handle. "You did that?" he asked, disguising the tension he felt with amused astonishment.  
  
"I did that," she replied stiffly. She tucked the gun back into her coat and tried to return her attention back to freeing Frodo. She shook with pent up energy that wanted to be expelled. She felt like she had done something criminal and had yet to be caught. If she had gutted those orcs with a sword she would not have such guilt. Why did the weapon matter and the act didn't? Perhaps it wasn't the weapon after all but where it came from and the fears that brought it there. "You are right to distrust humanity, Master dwarf," she said gravely. "We are not the noble people we once were."  
  
He looked at her and marveled over her continuing ability to surprise him. "Time changes many things," he offered in comfort. He returned to her side to help her with her master.  
  
"Time and death," she muttered bitterly.  
  
Boromir smiled at her wryly. "Don't you have philosophers in your world, Master Samwise? Death is change."  
  
Frodo looked up at the two in disbelief. Most of his senses still believed that he was dreaming. "He calls you 'Sam'?" he asked in a faraway voice.  
  
Sally crouched down near him. Her battered face filled all his view. "That's right, Mister Frodo," she said gently. Sam's words. Her voice. Just like that stolen moment in Andalsnes. Only now the two realities blended together in a perfect amalgam. She was not dreaming this time and neither was he.  
  
"I call him 'Master Boromir'," Sally said referring to the dwarf.  
  
Frodo glanced to the dwarf as his brow furrowed with confusion. The dwarf, for his part, held back with a demeanor of uncertainty as if waiting for some sign of acceptance that only Frodo could give. Frodo paused on the thought, considering the likelihood of the man's presence. Fate had revealed its plan to him slowly, step by step. It had brought Sam back to him. Boromir's return was not any less probable. "I wondered." he said carefully, recalling the pensive young dwarf pleading with his father back at the camp. "You looked familiar."  
  
The dwarf relaxed visibly. "Not quite as familiar as you looked to me, halfling," he said.  
  
Sally took hold of Frodo's arm gently preparing to help him to his feet. "Do you think that you can stand?" she asked, watching him closely for signs of hidden injury.  
  
Frodo accepted her help gratefully, allowing her larger strength to pull him up. "Until just now I had not thought it would ever be possible, but I will try," he said. He leaned into her, feeling his weight transfer easily to her arms. He felt strange seeing Sally from this perspective. Until he had shed his human glamour, he had looked down upon her, sheltered her in his arms, protected her. Now she stood above him, lifting him up like a child. He felt his face flush with embarrassment. Did she feel the differences as he did?  
  
She smiled at him warmly. If she noticed, she did not care. She was Sam. She would be there no matter what. No matter what.  
  
Frodo choked back a sudden tightness in his throat. She wasn't supposed to have found him. "Sally." he said, his voice full of sudden emotion, "why are you here?"  
  
Sally's smile grew deeper. She almost began to laugh and a wonderment appeared in her eyes that reflected Sam so clearly it almost hurt. "I understand everything now," she said. She brought her face close to his and whispered her words like a secret. "I know who I am and it's not an identity. It's a fate, a purpose. Even Gandalf couldn't keep me away."  
  
But they were not alone. Boromir stood near and he felt shamefully excluded from their closeness. He had nothing but the weakness of his former life to blame. "I brought her to you," he said. "When I saw her, I just knew she belonged with you." His mind had tried to piece together some recipe of redemption but he still felt the bile of dissatisfaction. He did not seek forgiveness from the Ringbearer but from himself. A prize he feared he would never be granted.  
  
Frodo recognized the self-inflicted torment that the young dwarf suffered. He took a step closer to offer him some solace but his foot crumpled beneath him. He stumbled forward and Boromir tried to catch him. For a brief moment, Frodo regarded him with great fear and waved off his assistance. He fell to his knees.  
  
Boromir hovered nervously, uncertain of what to do. Perhaps the Ringbearer's forgiveness was just as elusive as his own. "You have no need to fear me, Frodo," he said softly. "I don't want the Ring anymore."  
  
Frodo shook his head guiltily. "Forgive me," he said with sincerity. "I've become paranoid in my old age. The Ring's thrall is not easily overcome."  
  
Sally appeared at his side, ready to pull him back to his feet. "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" she asked.  
  
He nodded, giving her a wry smile. "I must have twisted my ankle when I fell through." He reached down and felt his right ankle gingerly. The swelling had become quite evident, leaving him incapable of continuing under his own power. "It won't take my weight," he said.  
  
Sally looked up at the gaping hole above her that had once been a mine tunnel. "From that height you're lucky nothing's broken," she commented. She looked back down at him and knew at once what she had to do. "Don't you worry, Mr. Frodo," she said, forcing cheer into her voice. "I carried you once before. I'll do it again. I imagine this time, it'll be easier."  
  
Frodo could not help but smile. She was ever his Sam.  
  
Faintly from the tunnel above came the sounds of angry voices and metal clashing against metal. Boromir looked up with restrained impatience and gripped his axe tightly. "I can hear them," he said.  
  
"Woton," Frodo said gravely. He had been so deliriously relieved at being found that he had forgotten the tragic predicament of his guides.  
  
"My father," Boromir whispered.  
  
The young dwarf was torn between the duties of his new life and the redemption of his old. The dilemma drove him mad. Honor had placed too many demands on his weary soul.  
  
Frodo reached out and held Boromir's arm. The dwarf met his eyes, unable to conceal his torment. "You have no debt to me, Boromir," the Ringbearer said to him. "Your weakness was not a sin. No one knows that better than I do."  
  
He hesitated. The strain began to weaken. The choice didn't have to be so hard. "I brought her to you," he said again. Perhaps that was all he needed to do.  
  
Frodo took his hand and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. "For that you have my eternal gratitude," he said.  
  
"And mine," Sally added. "This is a different life with different obligations. Perhaps it's time to let the old life go." Legolas had told her nearly the opposite about herself. The irony of that was a taste she would share with no one. But Boromir's fate was different from her own, with that; his design was different as well.  
  
Boromir accepted their statements for they allowed him to do what he truly desired. "Farewell then," he said. He glanced towards the tunnel where the orcs had disappeared before. This would be his path to find his father and save him if he could. He looked back to Sally and reached out to cup her chin in his hand. "I wish I had seen your face before it met that wall. What a strange twist fate has dealt us," he said softly then added with great seriousness. "You take care of him, Samwise. His quest must succeed."  
  
"I know," she said quietly. "Good-bye."  
  
Without another word, Boromir ran up the tunnel and disappeared into the darkness.  
  
Sally would never see him again.  
  
* * *  
  
At 9:25 a.m. the following morning, Merrick Brandenburg walked through the tinted revolving doors of the City United Bank. To play off of its close proximity to Central Park, this bank's main office was built as an atrium with three willowy trees growing in the center. A fountain with a koi pond lay at their base.  
  
On any other day Merrick would have found the sight breathtaking. The hobbit he was would have delighted at the irony of the scene. Instead of living in among the trees, these people brought the trees to live among them. But irony and marvel were only fleeting thoughts, taking a back seat to the uneasy churning of his stomach and the quickening pace of his heart. He would rather be any place but here. He was frightened.  
  
As he surveyed his surroundings, his eye caught sight of something that sent a note of calm along his jangling nerves. Seated on an ornately carved wooden bench near the koi pond was Piper chewing vulgarly on a candy bar.  
  
He smiled in spite of his fears. So much had happened since he last saw her. In one way everything had changed between them. In another, nothing had changed. "How long have you been here?" he asked as he reached her.  
  
"Long enough to give that security guard ideas," she said nodding to a uniformed guard across the lobby. He watched her suspiciously as she stuffed the uneaten portion of her candy bar into her bag. Piper stood and faced her friend. For a moment, uncertainty crossed her face. She didn't know what to do. They weren't just Merrick and Piper anymore and she wanted to express that. She wanted to cling to him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to weep. She wanted to cheer.  
  
But she just stood there. Stupid, human, foolish pride kept her still. With Frodo it was different. For a moment Piper ceased to exist. She also wasn't in a bank crowded with people. Pippin would never have fallen victim to embarrassment.  
  
Finally, she just hugged him. Nothing rich with emotion but simple, warm and human. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show up," she said softly. "I almost called."  
  
"I have an appointment at 9:30," Merrick said into her hair which smelled faintly of smoke. He wondered briefly where she had spent the night. He parted from her before his emotions got the better of him. He pushed a smile past stinging eyes. "Is this the work of fate?" he asked.  
  
Piper wiped away an errant tear and looked away. "If fate is one of Frodo's accountants at Shire Publishing," she replied with a humor that didn't quite make it into her voice. "I gave up on fate yesterday afternoon and started making phone calls."  
  
"Mister Brandenburg?" a petite young woman wearing a dark blue, pinstriped suit broke in with a not-too-subtle tap to Merrick's shoulder.  
  
"Yes?" he replied turning to her with politeness.  
  
"I'm Karen Coon," she said, giving Piper a sidelong glance before returning to her official manner. "We have an appointment.?"  
  
Merrick smiled weakly. "Of course." He had a job to do, a mission to help Frodo in as foreign of a fashion anyone could ever conceive of in the Shire.  
  
"Follow me," Ms. Coon instructed with a curt smile before turning and heading towards the elaborate offices with glass doors.  
  
Merrick took hold of Piper's hand for a brief moment. "Stay here," he told her gravely. "Keep your eyes open, Cousin."  
  
"You too," she replied with a hoarse voice, "Merry." Reluctantly she let go of his hand and he disappeared into a meeting of suits and money, leaving her sitting by the trees.  
  
* * *  
  
They had rested little on what remained of their journey through Moria. Frodo felt too apprehensive about the presence of orcs to close his eyes and Sally fed off of what energy her adrenalin rush had given her.  
  
Frodo had proven to be a better guide than Boromir and it pained Sally to think of the time used to acquire such experience. What had he done with all those years and what had the years done to him? She remembered the lightness of his body when as Sam, she had borne him up Mount Doom. Now, though he felt no heavier, she knew there was a difference. She felt a presence, a weight that somehow passed through him to her.  
  
She felt the Ring.  
  
A great blast of daylight greeted them as they emerged from the darkened mines. Sally squinted her eyes against the brightness as she surveyed the land before her. The hills, the trees, the river, they all looked familiar but she frowned as her mind struggled to make sense of where everything was. Perhaps her memory was flawed but the world appeared jumbled. Nothing was where she remembered it to be.  
  
Mount Doom was only a day away.  
  
"This is.different," she said at last.  
  
Frodo looked to his destination and shuddered. The last time he had come this close to the Ring's destruction it had nearly torn him apart inside and out, dragging him down with its unbelievable weight and tormenting his mind with its evil. But now it seemed oddly peaceful. His thought went back to a time when he gloried in its power, a time when he really needed it. "I changed much of it," he said, speaking of the land before them and the land that laid in Sam's memory. "I condensed it in a way. I kept only what I needed of Mordor to destroy the Ring." He felt for it for a moment, almost to reassure himself of its presence. Its quiet unsettled him. The action of reaching for it brought a shameful memory to the forefront of his mind. He buried his face in Sally's back. "I can't believe how close I came to using it today."  
  
"But you didn't," Sally said sharply, almost scolding him. "That's what's important. It's best if you don't dwell on what could have been."  
  
Frodo nearly smiled finding great comfort in the familiar tone of the words. "Is that something the Old Gaffer told you?" he asked.  
  
"Beats me," Sally responded. She brought to life the smile that didn't meet her companion's face. "I wouldn't be surprised if the words were your own."  
  
She stopped and began to cough. She only paused for a step before she continued. Frodo tried not to worry at the action and he said nothing. They had just left Moria. Coughing was a natural reaction to the change in the air. He rested his head against her and listened to her breathing. Coughing was normal. The sound her lungs made as they dragged air forcefully into themselves was not. They needed to stop. They needed to rest. Frodo only hoped that Sally wouldn't be too stubborn to listen.  
  
  
  
TBC in Chapter Sixteen: The Mirror of the Soul, Part Two  
  
Go read it. 


	16. The Mirror of the Soul, Part Two

Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.  
  
Author's note at the end.  
  
"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter Fifteen: The Mirror of the Soul, Part Two  
  
Boz struggled to keep his father on his feet. The small party of dwarves that had accompanied Frodo through the dangers of Moria had been reduced by a third. Gorin, the first to have found the Ringbearer, sadly had been the first to fall. His brothers carried his body, along with the others who had fallen in the brief skirmish with the orcs. Boz had arrived in time to avert his father's own death, an act which seemed to satisfy an emptiness within him. He had made it home in a fashion and saved his family and ultimately his very soul.  
  
Boromir's spirit finally felt relief.  
  
His warmth of heart suddenly fell dark. A chill wind blew across the beleaguered party and each stopped in their path. Boz held tightly to Woton as the older warrior opened his eyes wide in fear.  
  
Despair filled their hearts as the dark shadow of terror passed by them. They froze, unable to move or speak.  
  
Boz had felt this crushing presence before though not in this lifetime. He knew it would leave them. This darkness cared nothing for dwarves. Boromir said a silent prayer for Frodo and Sally as the shrill screams of the Ringwraiths filled his ears.  
  
* * *  
  
"Sally, we should stop," Frodo said. He had made this statement, request, demand four times already only to have it ignored. Sally staggered through the green grass before the woods once known as Lothlorien as though she were in a trance. Any attempt Frodo made to climb down from her back only made her hold more tightly to him.  
  
Her breathing had transformed horrifically. Where once the air struggled and rattled its way into her, it now hardly seemed to make it in at all. She panted rapidly, taking shallow breath after shallow breath.  
  
This time she listened. She stopped and slumped into a tree before her. Frodo began to dislodge himself from her and she reached back to help him down. Her hand felt cold.  
  
As he came down, he pulled her pack with him. With effort, Sally dragged herself to a sitting position leaning against the tree and watched him from under heavy eyelids as he searched through her bag. "What are you doing?" she asked in a labored whisper.  
  
Frodo looked at her, his irritation at his fruitless search written in his eyes and in the furious turn of his hands. "Where is your inhaler?" he asked. He knew she had one. He had seen her use it. Her reason for not using it already terrified him.  
  
"Andalsnes," she answered. All hope left him.  
  
Sally turned her head and closed her eyes. "Don't look at me like that," she pleaded softly through strangled breaths. "I.already feel.foolish.I was so busy.remembering that I .was Sam.that I forgot Sally.has asthma."  
  
Frodo crawled to her side. He choked back fearful tears and put on a brave, comforting face for his ailing friend. He took hold of her cold hand and touched her cheek. Her face had taken a grayish cast and her lips had begun to look blue. "You're not a fool," he said with a reassuring tone he did not feel. "I'm just scared. Are you going to be better?"  
  
Sally opened her eyes sleepily and managed to smile. She seemed unaware of how tragic she appeared. She felt so tired, so very, very tired. Her body struggled for each miniscule breath of air in a sickening, horrifying display that did not register to her consciousness. Her mind dwelled on the promise of sleep while her body weakened and prepared to stop. "Don't know," she answered, "never left .it behind." Her eyes rolled back and she fell limp.  
  
"Sally?!" Frodo called frantically. He rubbed her hands and face desperately to revive her. As he fought to awaken her, in the back of his mind he realized that her body could not get enough oxygen to keep her conscious.  
  
For a moment, her eyes fluttered open. She could see her master's face before her. Anguished tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling to her, saying something she could not quite understand. She reached up to touch him and her fingertips brushed lightly against his lips but she couldn't feel it. Something was happening. Something important. But it would have to wait. The dark peacefulness of sleep beckoned to her and she could not resist its call. "sorry."  
  
Her hand fell from his face. Her muscles relaxed at once and her body seemed to sink into the ground. Frodo trembled as he called out her name over and over. But this time she couldn't hear him. This time she would not answer. She continued to breathe but even that effort had weakened.  
  
How much longer until it stopped?  
  
"Sally, you can't leave me," he sobbed. He pulled at her cloak and tugged at her hands. "Not now. Not again, Sam. Not again. I can't do this without you. Please, come back." He clung to her still form desperately, no longer aware of the words that he spoke. So close to the end. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He should have realized how sick she was. He should have made her stay behind.  
  
He should not have let her carry him.  
  
Frodo clutched her close to him as his mind drowned in regret and despair. Amid the beauty of the elven forest Sally laid dying. Through the ragged sound of her strangled breaths he could hear them coming. At his darkest hour their presence seemed the wickedest irony of bad timing.  
  
The Nazgul had found them at last.  
  
* * *  
  
In the tense void of time of Merrick's absence Piper tried unsuccessfully to finish the remainder of her uneaten candy bar. Her stomach had twisted itself into so many nervous knots it was unwilling to hold anything. She looked around her fitfully scanning every face and figure for any threat.  
  
She realized uncomfortably that she looked psychotic. Trying to adjust her behavior to look less suspicious only made her more nervous. Whatever terrible thing that was going to happen should happen soon. She just wanted to get it over with. The waiting was almost worse.  
  
A deep sigh issued form behind her and she snapped around quickly to face her foe. It was Merrick.  
  
"That's it?" she asked. She was surprised to see him back without incident and she tried to slow her racing heart.  
  
Merrick's face reflected her concern that something had been missed or forgotten. Their morning should not pass by so effortlessly. "I guess so," he shrugged. "I gave them that proxy form Sally faxed me and signed a few papers and.that was it."  
  
The money had been transferred. Shire Publishing was safe from hostile takeover.  
  
Piper frowned and relaxed her tense muscles. She had poised herself for an action she would never take. "Seems kind of .I don't know, anticlimactic."  
  
Merrick sat beside her on the open bench. He felt momentarily lost. "Yeah," he murmured, "I just wish I felt more reassured by that."  
  
The light in the bank dimmed as if a blanket of shadow fell across everyone and everything there. Four men had entered, four men wearing suits of black with faces indistinct. Terror filled the hearts and minds of all who were there, freezing them where they stood. They could only watch and fear. They could not understand. They could not act.  
  
Merrick and Piper knew this horrifying feeling all too well and instinctively they sought out each other's hands, holding tightly to one another for strength and comfort.  
  
They stood together facing this familiar danger side by side. "Are they who I think they are?" Merrick whispered hoarsely.  
  
Piper nodded. "I think so."  
  
Suddenly, Merrick broke from his friend and sprang for the wall. Burning with an inner fire, ignited by fear and rage, he ripped down the fire extinguisher. He returned to her side, holding the large canister menacingly between them and the advancing Ringwraiths.  
  
The black suited man closest to them raised his arm in warning. "DO NOT MOVE," it hissed in a voice that contained all the chill and blaze of hell itself.  
  
Merrick nearly dropped the extinguisher, trembling in a newfound terror brought by the words of the Nazgul. Somehow, he found his own voice and the memory of the defiant spirit that refused to cower before these demons once before. "I'm not afraid of you! I've killed one of you before," he declared. A moment of clarity graced his thoughts and delivered a revelation to him that took some of the fire from his eyes. He handed the fire extinguisher to Piper. "Take this, Pip," he said to her quietly.  
  
Without taking her eyes from the Nazgul she took the bulky canister. "Why?" she asked in a fearful whisper.  
  
"Because it was decreed that no man could kill them," he told her with a note of regret. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but, I'm a man."  
  
"And?"  
  
"You're not."  
  
"Oh." The truth struck her as remotely funny. If she survived the experience she may laugh but now she felt small and afraid. Even the bravery and daring of the Thain could not stand long against the chilling might of four Ringwraiths. What defense could she mount with a fire extinguisher?  
  
The sound of shattering glass ripped all attention to the front window as a man smashed his way into the bank. The four Nazgul screamed shrilly at this new threat as the man ripped the fire axe down from the wall. In this moment of great distraction, customers and employees fled, finding release from the paralysis of their fear.  
  
The blade of the axe head was a little small for his taste but Grigor felt a satisfying thrill as he swung his newfound weapon towards his enemy. He had found a handle large enough for his human hands.  
  
Merrick revived himself enough from this startling turn of events to shut his gaping mouth. "Friend of yours?" he asked Piper.  
  
Piper watched Grigor's onslaught with the stunned expression of a deer caught in headlights. Then she saw it, in the extension of his arms as he stepped into his swing, in the cold rage in his eyes as he fought. She knew. "Oh my God," she murmured, "I think he's a friend of yours too."  
  
Grigor backed up to them, protecting them with the bulk of his body and the axe in his hand. The Nazgul would not be felled by him but that would not stop him from his duty to protect and serve the Fellowship. "I wasn't going to leave you to the battle by yourself, Master Peregrin," he said in a voice that showed no sign of tiring. "Without your furry feet to find you, I had to make due with your blue hair."  
  
* * *  
  
No longer wearing the suits of black that cloaked them in the modern world of man, the three remaining Nazgul adorned themselves in billowing garments of ebony. With swords drawn, they advanced slowly towards the Ringbearer.  
  
Through eyes swollen with tears, Frodo watched them come. He held Sally close to him like a child clasping to something beloved, a possession he valued above all else. He could not run. He could not fight. They were coming and she was dying. Hopeless. He had no reason left to keep going. He should let them take him. What torment could they devise that would be worse than his tortured existence? Death would be a welcome change to his suffering. He should let them take him.  
  
Sally moaned softly and stirred in his arms. He looked down at her in alarm. He did not want her to know. He did not want her to see. He rocked her gently, unknowingly, willing her to sleep. Sleep away her life in blissful ignorance. Let her dreams be pleasant not filled with frightful nightmares.  
  
'We can save her.' The whisper came to him softly. It called to him. Frodo closed his eyes trying to shut it out. He knew the voice that beckoned to him. Tender, like a mother's voice, it promised to make all of his pain go away. To kiss his wounds and frighten away his monsters and make everything all better again.  
  
No. He couldn't use it again. Not even for this. Sally knew that better than he knew it himself. This would not be a simple matter of casting glamour. This would be dark. Destructive. Selfish.  
  
'Then you must get away or they will take me from you.'  
  
He knew that. He wasn't stupid. For a moment, he tried. The struggle began in his mind when he told himself to let go and ended when his arms would not obey. He couldn't leave her, not to save the Ring, not to save himself. Fate had meant for them to be together.  
  
'Use me.'  
  
There was no right answer. Corrupt himself or the world. The choice used to be so easy. Lately he had begun to care more about his soul than he once had. But he would sell it once again to save her life.  
  
Without realizing it, he already had the Ring in his hand. He pushed all regrets aside and slipped it on his finger.  
  
Its power poured through him illuminating every fiber of his being. He accepted its energy willingly, joyfully and it filled a longing that had eaten at him for longer than he could clearly remember.  
  
Frodo stood tall before his enemy. No longer the small and seemingly helpless hobbit he had transformed himself into a luminous being of might.  
  
The Nazgul faltered in their advance. For a moment they seemed afraid. At one time in their existence their presence lay only in the power and whim of that One Ring. It made them.  
  
It could unmake them.  
  
Frodo stretched his hand out to them. Through his motion, the touch of his fingers on the air, he could feel all matter of existence bending to his will.  
  
"BEGONE," he said unto them and his command echoed across the face of the earth.  
  
With one last scream of despair the Nazgul withered away to ash to be blown asunder by the gentle wind of Lothlorien. The Ringwraiths were gone.  
  
All of them.  
  
His task incomplete, Frodo turned his attention to Sally. Her mouth gaped open unnaturally in her body's futile effort to draw in more air. He could see the pale light of her life fading before him. But unlike the anguish he felt moments before, the Ring brought him godlike detachment to the world. Saving Sally now was a simple matter.  
  
He closed his eyes, focusing on the air around her. He could see every particle, every molecule. He followed their path into her. Every vessel he opened. Every tube he cleared. One by one by one by one until the air moved in and out of her with ease.  
  
He fixed her nose and cleaned the blood from her face and clothes. He adjusted her form so that she could sleep more comfortably.  
  
So much power. It swirled around him and through him, begging him to do more. He wanted to, oh, he wanted to with everything that he was. With the One Ring, there was nothing he couldn't do.  
  
Except stop.  
  
* * *  
  
In New York, the four Nazgul disintegrated, leaving only the echoes of wailing in the air.  
  
Grigor stood ready in front of Merrick and Piper. He held his axe before him, tense for the battle that would never come. He looked around him warily, expecting the disappearance to be a trick to catch him off guard. "What? What just happened?" he demanded. "Did I do that?"  
  
"No," Piper answered him quietly. Her expression had turned grave as her mind seemed to focus on something far away.  
  
Whatever it was, Merrick saw it too. He stared at the space where the Nazgul once stood, peering into the emptiness as if it were a window to another world. What they witnessed affected them profoundly. "Frodo did that," he explained. It was a truth that tortured them with mixed emotions, relief that their danger had ended but sadness for a friend they now knew was lost. They could feel it, as palpable a presence as if the Ringbearer stood there with them. This obliteration rode on a wave of despair.  
  
"A destructive act like that could only be done with the One Ring," a velvety smooth voice announced from the entrance of the bank. All attention turned to him in his sleek Italian suit and his silvery white mane of hair.  
  
Grigor snarled at the sight of him. The name issued from his throat in a guttural tone. "Saruman."  
  
Saruman rubbed his hands together lightly to brush away the remnant ash of the Ringwraiths. Although their demise created a small setback to him, he would use what he could of it to his advantage. Right now that advantage was anxiety for the Ringbearer. "A pity," he said with mock sympathy. "He had been so careful with it." He met their eyes knowing he had chosen his weapon well. "He'll never be able to destroy it now."  
  
Piper could barely contain her rage. All of the terror she felt now had a face. Although her thoughts lacked focus to put into action, she found the power to speak. "Shrivel up and die, old man!" she spat at him.  
  
The wizard was baiting them and Merrick refused to fall for it. He placed a reassuring hand on his friend's arm and tried to diffuse her anger with humor. "Put a little flavor in it, Pip," he said to her quietly. "We're in New York."  
  
His gentle words did nothing to calm the towering ex-cop in front of him. The good fight had finally come to him and he saw his enemy face to face. Nothing could hold him back from his sacred duty. "I'll not let you near them!" he roared, drawing his line in the sand.  
  
Saruman smiled faintly. He raised his hand to the air and Grigor's axe flew to his grasp powered by his cruel will. "How do you propose to stop me, dwarf?"  
  
Grigor did not answer. He didn't have to.  
  
An unearthly sigh issued from above them. Before anyone could react, the thin branches of one of the trees reached down and entwined Saruman in its grasp. Like ropes powered by a multitude of strong hands the branches wrapped around each hand, each leg, over his eyes and across his mouth. Grigor's axe clattered to the floor as the tree lifted the bound wizard into the air. He could not speak. He could not see. He could not move. But he could hear the heavenly sweet feminine voice as it spoke to him. "Foul thief of life, we have waited for you to show your face, for the little ones to draw you out."  
  
A second set of wooden arms from another tree reached out and pulled him close to its trunk. Embedded in its smooth bark a face appeared, beautiful but filled with an ancient rage. "You were wise to hide from us," she spoke in a high, melodious voice, "But we are patient."  
  
The third tree stretched down to widen the opening in the window made by Grigor's entrance. To everyone's shock another willow tree stood outside. Saruman struggled in his unyielding trap as the first tree passed his bound form to the waiting arms of the one outside. She had sacrificed pieces of herself to ensure Saruman's sustained captivity. "Now our bloodthirst will be satisfied," she said somberly.  
  
Grigor, Piper and Merrick ran after the long strides of the trees. They had no wish to aide or interfere but they felt the need to witness.  
  
Saruman's body was passed from tree to tree until eventually he reached his fate in Central Park. The Ents' memory is long but the Entwives' is longer. Saruman paid his debt to them as they tore his body to shreds. In a matter of moments nothing remained of him.  
  
Piper could not look away. The horror of the scene had a surreal quality that mesmerized her. "I.this." she struggled to speak. "There are no words to describe this." Perhaps this was the face of war, a war that started long ago in Middle Earth and ended here in the woods of Central Park.  
  
Merrick put his arm around her shoulders and turned her away gently. Saruman was gone. They had no reason to stay. Their role in this had ended. The glimmer of a smile began to appear on his face. "Someone needs to tell Treebeard we found the Entwives," he said, voicing his thoughts.  
  
Piper shook her head. "Central Park. Who knew?"  
  
Grigor came up on the other side of her, growling softly to himself. "I knew there was some reason I hated this park."  
  
* * *  
  
Darkness had fallen over Lothlorien as Sally began to push away the heavy feelings of contented sleep. The memory of what had happened before she had closed her eyes came to her like the disjointed images of a dream. She remembered only simple things, blunt facts. She was having an asthma attack. She had forgotten her inhaler. Frodo was worried.  
  
To think of it now put such distance between her and the events. They could have happened to someone else.  
  
But they didn't. Only now as she became fully awake did she realize. She didn't just fall asleep. She had lost consciousness. She could have died.  
  
She should have died.  
  
But she didn't.  
  
She sat up suddenly, opening her eyes to the darkness of night. Several feet away, Frodo sat by a small campfire. He had turned his back to her as he stared contemplatively into the fire. He seemed so alone, sitting so far away from her.  
  
Sally took a deep breath and felt her lungs expand effortlessly. She couldn't remember the last time she had ever breathed so deeply. She did it again, lingering over the sensation. Breathing had never felt so easy.  
  
Oh God.  
  
Sally reached up and felt her nose. Before, even the slightest touch of the wind would bring her pain. She pressed down on it now and did not even wince. Her nose was no longer broken. She licked her lips. Even the taste of her blood had disappeared.  
  
She looked back up at him as tears began to well in her eyes. She now knew why he sat the way he did. She had no one but herself to blame. "Mister Frodo," she called to him sorrowfully, "what happened? What have you done?"  
  
Then she heard it soft and childlike on the wind.  
  
He was weeping.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's Note: I know I made you wait ridiculously long for this. I couldn't help it. Summer has been crazy hasn't it? The last two chapters won't be quite so long as this. The tone will be a little quieter too. Before I get the next chapter out, I want to finish a short story I'm working on for a contest. The story is called "Morticia". I'll post it when it's finished. Even with this I won't make you wait as long as I did for this.  
  
Reviews are deeply appreciated as always.  
  
Chapter Seventeen : "The Choices of Sally Gamble" - Sally and Frodo deal with the aftereffects of Frodo's big use of the Ring as they come to the cracks of doom. Will Frodo be able to destroy it? 


	17. The Choices of Sally Gamble

"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter 17: The Choices of Sally Gamble  
  
They found themselves in the darkness, scrambling towards each other in desperate need of comfort and solace. Frodo nearly collapsed into Sally's lap, spilling a torrent of bitter tears into her elven cloak. He didn't know what he really wanted. He partly wished for her anger. He could not handle her fear. He knew she would want his reassurance, something he sorely, miserably lacked.  
  
He had failed her. He was at a loss for what would happen next. "I.I couldn't stop it," he sobbed. A sad excuse for a hobbit who would be a god, but time and time again that simple statement summed up the totality of his life.  
  
Sally held him, mired in her own feelings of guilt and inadequacy. She looked away from him even as her arms encircled him. She should not have let this happen. Her purpose, no matter what life she lived was to serve Frodo, to stand at his side and to help him. In every aspect this day, she had failed him. Gandalf was right to have tried to keep her behind. He had seen the larger picture she had blinded herself to. He knew the danger that she posed to the Ringbearer. Only now did she understand. She felt the shame wash over her in the tears spilled. "I wasn't worth this," she whispered to the air. She had been selfish.  
  
Frodo looked up at her. He could not believe her words. In a way they horrified him, not in her willingness to sacrifice herself but in the effect her declaration had on him. They cemented his actions. He knew then that he would not have done anything differently. He chose to use the Ring. It didn't force his hand. No matter the fault in his logic, he would save her over the rest of the world. He took her hand and clutched it tightly. "Don't ever say that, Sally," he said pleadingly. "You're the only reason I'm here. You're the only reason I've held on for so long."  
  
She found no comfort in his affirmation. She had followed him out of blind devotion but his devotion to her may have cost him the strength he needed to destroy the Ring. Wasn't that what this was all about? Had they forgotten? Had he? "What do we do now?" she asked, looking to him sadly. "Do you think you can go on?"  
  
There it was, her quest for reassurance. Frodo had hoped she would delay it somehow. He didn't want to be the leader again.anymore. He was too tired. He simply wanted to cry. If his tears lasted an eternity, it would be a better existence than getting back to his feet and facing Mt. Doom.  
  
But his tears would not serve Sally. She would follow him to the end but he would still have to lead. "I don't know," he said wearily. He tried to summon what remained of his wits and his strength but something held them back, something dark and heavy suffocating him, crushing him. "I can still feel it," he told her. "I can still hear it in my head, saying words I can't understand."  
  
That was untrue. He knew exactly what the Ring was saying to him. He used the last ounce of his will refusing to listen.  
  
"We found a way before, didn't we?" She didn't mean for her words to be a question. She didn't mean for her voice to sound so small and timid. She knew he needed her strength and she wanted to give it to him. She just needed to find it within herself. "We have to have hope."  
  
She would not fail him again.  
  
* * *  
  
The path twisted up the angry, jagged face of Mt. Doom. Frodo stumbled blindly, holding to the rockface for support, groping the air around him for phantoms only he could see. Sally followed him, guiding him when he seemed to lose his way. He hardly seemed to notice her presence. Only when she offered to bear him upon her back again did he rouse himself to wave her off. This was his battle, his own demon he had to defeat. He did not want to share.  
  
For the time, though his efforts seemed pitiful, he could hold it back. Any moment he would collapse, let the ground swallow him up and move no more. No enemy chased them now. They did not need to hide from orc, or Nazgul or the once ever-present Eye. Their bodies were well-nourished, well-clothed and they carried clean, clear water with them. Their weakness and despair of failure came form the torment of the Ring alone. It only had to stop them once. Once and for all.  
  
So blinded by her careful watch over her master, Sally missed the ironic familiarity of their path. Although the world had aged, flourishing and dying through the passage of years, Mount Doom had remained unchanged. Not a rock had moved. Even the dust was undisturbed. Had her eyes strayed from Frodo and glanced down to her trail, she would have seen the ghostly impressions made by footprints she had cast centuries ago. But all of this was lost on her.  
  
Only when they faced the door of Sammath Naur and the hot breath of the fires within blew across her face did the realization stir within Sally's mind. She remembered this. She knew this.  
  
Frodo preceded her with renewed determination in his step. Sally followed quickly, fearful that she would lose him in the darkness.  
  
Just as she began to fumble for her flashlight, the fires of the Crack of Doom illuminated her vision. Frodo stood at the edge of the great chasm. He had taken out the Ring and held it in his open hand.  
  
It seemed so simple now. Just toss the Ring into the fire and it would be done. All he needed to do was turn his hand and let it fall, let it burn, let it be gone. Once it might have been that simple. Not now. Now there was confusion, hesitation, pain. The air was stagnant with it. Sally could taste it. Her master had begun to falter again. "Frodo..?" she called.  
  
For a long moment, he stood motionless before the burning light. Sally felt a sinking fear that he would never speak or move again, but as she began to reach for him he finally answered her. "I'm lost, Sally," he said as if from far away. "I can't hear you anymore." He shook his head and slowly he stepped away from the chasm. "I can't do this." He said his words plaintively, a last plea for help as his will gave way to the seduction of the Ring. Its power overcame him and his expression became cold and resolute. "I won't do this."  
  
A feral, unanticipated anger erupted from Sally. No. No. NO. Damned, damned, damned Ring. She struck Frodo with all the wrath and frustration she had hidden within her.  
  
The action surprised them both and sent Frodo to the ground. The Ring rolled free from his hand.  
  
Still on her feet, Sally reached for it. She had no conscious thought in her mind of what she was doing only the instinctive need to keep it away from her master.  
  
Frodo scrambled for her. His face had twisted into a contorted mask of horror and fury. "NO!!! Get away from it!" he screamed at her. "Don't touch it! IT'S MINE!!"  
  
But he was too late. Sally had picked up the Ring and stepped out of Frodo's desperate grasp.  
  
His lust for the Ring had clouded his sight. Instead of his devoted friend and companion, he saw only a monstrous thief. He would have to punish her for playing with his things. He nearly snarled as he sprang to his feet to confront her.  
  
He took one menacing step towards her and faltered. Out of a sense of survival, he stopped advancing on her. The instinct was not as old as his need for the Ring but it was no less irresistible. In the world of man, one learns at an early age to stand still while staring down the barrel of a gun.  
  
Sally trembled at her terrifying predicament. Would she fire her gun? Even she didn't know. Each move she made came from desperation and fear. Each step was blind to the future plans of the next. "No," she asserted in a voice thick with emotion, "I can't let you have it. You're not yourself."  
  
Frodo shook with helpless rage. He wanted his Ring back but his fear of the gun held him in check. He felt its absence keenly like a gaping hole in his chest, cold and empty. He had to get it back. It had not left his possession for centuries. He almost could not remember the last time but he knew there was once another Ringbearer. Sam had carried it for him when he could not protect it.  
  
Sam. Frodo's vision began to clear. The great fog over his mind lifted. He did not face a monster or a thief. Sally held the Ring now.  
  
His eyes softened and Frodo began to return to himself. "Sally?" he called.  
  
Sally let the gun fall to her side. The intensity of the moment had passed and she released her tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," she cried. "I just .I just couldn't let it happen again."  
  
With clarity of mind, Frodo saw the extent of Sally's loyalty. Her faithfulness had saved them. He smiled gently. "I know. It's alright." Although the Ring still existed, he felt a small release. His burden had shifted. At the time of its destruction he would no longer be the Ringbearer. "Cast it into the fire," he told her and with heart and soul, he meant it.  
  
As he spoke the words, she could feel the weight of the Ring consuming her. Its fingers reached into her mind, speaking, touching, invading. She held tightly to her master's words. She had taken the task upon herself now. She stepped towards the chasm and opened her hand, ready to release the Ring to the fire.  
  
Its voice started as a whisper, something quiet and small that she felt she could ignore. It grew in intensity and insistence until she found herself listening to it. It spoke to her and she wanted to open her mind to it but in the glory of power and the promise of happiness it brought unpleasant tidings. She furrowed her brow. She didn't like what she heard. She closed her hand.  
  
"What are you doing?" Frodo asked, seeing her hesitate.  
  
"You didn't tell me," she said softly. Her gaze surveyed the field of fire below but her thoughts focused on something far removed from it.  
  
He didn't like her quiet, accusing tone. "Sally, please, before it's too late," he insisted. He could see the Ring's push for preservation, its drive for dominance in her mind, the inevitability.  
  
"You're going to die," she said. She turned to face him. The Ring had shown her in images and words. She didn't want to believe it but it made too much sense. "Tell me it lies," she pleaded. "Tell me that once this evil thing is gone you'll still be here."  
  
Frodo let out a long breath, a sigh of defeat. His eyes could not leave hers. "I can't," he said. "It's been too long. There's too much of me inside of it."  
  
Fresh tears fell from her face. The last of his secrets had finally been revealed. "You knew from the start, didn't you?" She wasn't angry. She was simply lost. A growing cacophony in her mind drove her farther and farther from home.  
  
"I've always known," he said.  
  
Sally turned back to the fire and clutched the Ring to her heart. "I don't have to destroy it," she said with a strange calm to her voice. "I could keep it."  
  
"No, Sally."  
  
Her mind had filled with old memories and feelings of hope. She could almost see nothing else. "We could go back to the Shire. I could be your Sam again. We could go home."  
  
"No."  
  
She could feel the power. All she had to do was reach out and take it. Everything would be as it should. "With this Ring, we could do anything."  
  
Frodo could see her slipping away. He stepped toward her and took her hand, willing her to hear his words. "No, not anything," he said. "We could go to the Shire but it won't be our home." He knew what she saw reflected in the Ring's promise. He had seen it too once and wanted it just as badly as she did. But he knew better. With every wish, there's always some catch. No matter how much it hurt, some things are just too good to be true. "We've changed too much. No matter how powerful that Ring is, it can't change us back to the way we were before."  
  
Sally fell to her knees. The weight of the Ring's power pushed her to the ground. Out of the din of madness in her mind a small part of her escaped, a small part of the real Sally cried out. "I can't do this! It's too much!" she wailed. She clasped her hands around her head, holding in what little she had left before she would explode. "There are too many voices in my head. I can't tell which is yours. I don't know what the truth is anymore. I don't know what to do."  
  
Frodo reached out and place a comforting hand upon her bowed head. His heart swelled with sympathy. He would take away her pain if it were in his power, but that power was no longer in his hand. It was in hers. He had to make her see that it was her choice. "You know what to do," he said softly.  
  
Sally looked to him as if he had struck her. She shook her head and closed her eyes tightly, shutting out reason. "Don't say that," she cried. "You know I can't do this. I can't let you die!"  
  
To remain faithful to the quest meant losing him. To save him would mean betrayal to a pledge she had made long ago, a pledge to him. Though not fully removed from the Ring's influence, Frodo felt that his mind was his own. He could hear its call but it did not deafen him to the call of his own heart. For once, the answer was simple. "I don't want to live anymore," he said to Sally in a small but steady voice.  
  
Sally met his eyes and away from the whispers in her head and the pressures on her soul, she saw truth there. She believed him. If this was what he wanted, what he needed, she would do it. She loved him. She would not fail him.  
  
She fell against him, burying her face in his small chest. She held tightly to him, crying, grieving. This would be their good-bye.  
  
Frodo stroked her hair and hugged her to him as she wept. His eyes were dry. Dying only hurts those who are left behind. He bent his head down to her and whispered. "Let it go. Let me go."  
  
"I'm so sorry," she sobbed.  
  
He shook his head with pity for her. "Please don't blame yourself."  
  
She lifted her red eyes and wet face to him. At the end, all she could think of were regrets. She could count the days they had spent together on the fingers of her two hands. A handful of days that made the rest of her life seem a waste. If she could have it all back.. "There's so much I should have said, so much I should have done. I should have been better," she cried mournfully. "None of this should have happened."  
  
Frodo placed his fingers upon her lips to quiet her. "No more wishes," he whispered, "not now. Save them." He reached for her hand that held the Ring. Instinctively she wanted to pull away but he did not try to take it. Somehow he had moved beyond that now. He simply covered her hand with his own, spreading warmth and peace to her trembling spirit. "It wants to stay. You feel it, don't you?"  
  
Sniffling and wretched, Sally nodded.  
  
"I feel it too," he said gravely. "It's a hunger that will never let you free."  
  
Her face twisted in anguish. She pulled herself away from him. "I can't feel anything else!!" she raged. Every moment of their time had been tainted by the Ring. All happiness was fleeting and despair was inevitable. Like a spoiled child, it demanded every ounce of their will and their soul and their heart until there was nothing left. Nothing left. Poor Frodo. Only an empty shell of the hobbit he had once been. "I should fix this. I should save you. I can do it," she murmured in her delirium. Little by little the Ring picked away at her, crushing her spirit, bending her to its will. "I should have been better!" It stripped away all that she was, all her hopes, all her happiness. "Oh God, make it go away!" Until there was nothing left but pain..and rage. "Just make it go away!!"  
  
In a final act of fury and vengeance, she flung the Ring into the fires of the Crack of Doom.  
  
Silence. Despair washed over her, threatening to pull her into the fire after the Ring. What had she done? Dear God, it was gone.  
  
A gentle sigh released from the burning field below. A spirit was freed, an essence of goodness to seep into a world painted in shades of darkness.  
  
The ghosts and demons that had plagued her disappeared, leaving only Sally. She stared down at the fires in wonder. She didn't know how it happened. She couldn't recall her state of mind or what exactly gave her the strength to actually do it. She only remembered her anger, a black, seething fury had swelled within her and for a split second found its proper focus. It was over. The Ring was gone.  
  
"I did it," she said aloud. She felt a flush of pride and turned to share it with Frodo.  
  
Just out of her arm's reach she saw him. He laid still and quiet with his face turned away from her. She could only see the dark curls of his hair and the curve of his small fingers. No more patient smiles. No more wise eyes full of warmth and caring.  
  
Frodo was gone.  
  
Sally crawled to his side but she would not hope. Enough miracles had happened today. There were none left. If only she had saved one.  
  
His face looked strangely peaceful and his skin was still warm to the touch as she took his hand into hers. She could almost believe that he was only sleeping but she knew he would not wake. She wanted to weep and mourn and wail loudly over his passing but her spirit was too weary. At the end of the quest, she was where she wanted to be, at her master's side.  
  
She had never felt so alone.  
  
"You told me to save my wishes," she said aloud, a greater part of her believing he  
  
could hear her from where he had gone. "But without the Ring, all I have is myself and all my wishing isn't going to bring you back. . .Maybe I should save that too.. I shouldn't wish for you. It's not what you want." A bittersweet smile fell upon her lips and she looked to him fondly. "Oh, I know you'd do it, if you could. Just for me. But it's not fair. Who am I to be this selfish? You deserve to get what you want and you. . ." She swallowed hard. Her sorrow threatened to overtake her. "You wanted this. Your wish." She pulled his hand to her, to her heart. "So I'm going to keep my wish. I'm going to save it, Mr. Frodo, just like you told me too."  
  
She settled onto the rock surface beside him, never once releasing his hand. She had another wish, unspoken but not forgotten. She had made it in her other life in the despairing darkness of Shelob's lair.  
  
She would come back to him and never leave him again.  
  
She got her wish.  
  
TBC  
  
Author's note: I hope that within the words of this chapter you will see why it was so difficult to write. Some of you knew this was coming but I know some of you did not. This was my plan from the start. Some of you ask me questions and I always make a point to answer any questions that I can. Ron's Girl asked me months ago, what would happen to Frodo when the Ring was destroyed. Now you can see why I couldn't answer.  
  
There are other questions that I haven't answered.  
  
And a couple questions I will answer tonight. Cheerleader15 asked if Frodo and Sally's relationship was platonic. Of course. I never planned on taking it anywhere Tolkien did not take Frodo's relationship with Sam. Elanor Gamgee asked if I would ever explain who the old woman at the inn was. She's really no one important. She was merely a plot device to show that Legolas had come to that inn almost throughout the ages. I honestly meant to go deeper into that little offshoot of the story but didn't for the purposes of time. There are a lot of scenes I meant to write more, a lot of unexplored alleys. For now, they will not be explored by me, but if anyone else out there would like to take a crack at them, let me know.  
  
Whoops, I almost forgot. If this story tonight seemed a little too angsty and you need some lighter fair, check out Bookworm's "Dandelion". It has the sound of the Shire in it.  
  
Don't worry, Nix. I'll plug yours next time. Promise.  
  
Only one more chapter to go.  
  
Chapter Eighteen : "Shadow of the Past" - Sally goes home. She finds her friends and receives a gift and an unexpected pledge. 


	18. Shadow of the Past

"Hostile Takeover"-Chapter 18: Shadow of the Past  
  
Author's Note: I couldn't get the italics to work so I will clarify flashbacks with "PAST" and "PRESENT".  
  
Another Author's Note is at the end.  
  
Disclaimer is the same as the first chapter.  
  
This chapter contains snippets of quotes from The Fellowship of the Ring and The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkein  
  
Merrick stood at one of the multitude of windows at Heathrow airport in London, England. He watched a large 767 aircraft back slowly away from its gate to begin its taxi towards the runway. The chances that that was the plane that carried Grigor away from them were slim but he watched it with the same intent nonetheless.  
  
The big man described it as a spiritual journey, a need to reaffirm his connection to his past. Though he might never see his former kin or walk through the wood of Lothlorien again, he wanted to see the gates of Moria and feel their stone beneath the palm of his hand.  
  
Merrick knew better. He recognized Grigor's reasoning as the flowery psychobabble it was. He didn't want to admit that he simply missed his friend. The slightly veiled message they received that the elf would be waiting for him was enough reason for him to buy his ticket for Oslo.  
  
Merrick wished that he and Piper could go with him but they did not fly to London to see old friends. They came to bring one home.  
  
Piper sat uncomfortably on the edge of a plastic chair staring at the ends of her overgrown bangs. She sighed in exasperation with herself. Once again she found she did not fit how she looked with how she felt. She had discovered her true self but she didn't look the part. It would be time for a change once again. "I hate my hair," she said sullenly more to herself than to anyone else.  
  
Merrick did not hear her small declaration. His mind focused on a figure emerging from a gate across from them. He tapped his companion on the shoulder to draw her attention. "Pip," he called softly.  
  
Piper rose to her feet at the sight of her lost friend. Sally's expression flickered with recognition and disbelief. So far from home, this couldn't be real. But their arms came around her, drawing her into their comforting embrace. She could not help but let herself go to them. She buried her face in Merrick's shoulder and clung tightly to Piper's hand. This was not home but it was more than she had ever hoped for. "I can't believe you're here," she said with a throaty voice.  
  
"Gandalf sent for us," Merrick said softly. "He said it would be better to go back three together than one alone."  
  
The words sounded right to her, familiar, but the scene was all wrong. Their quest was complete but their triumph was negated by their loss. It shouldn't be like this. They were to be sad but not grieving.  
  
PAST  
  
Sally had thought that she would waste away by her master's body at the Crack of Doom. Being alone as she was, she had almost tricked herself into thinking she was all that remained of the world. She never thought anyone would come for her.  
  
They didn't come for her. They came for him. She heard them, their fair voices raised in song. The elves had entered the fire lit cavern on silent footfalls. One of them paused by her side and asked if he could lead her home. She met his request with a shell-shocked silent stare.  
  
PRESENT  
  
The events which had occurred to separate her from Middle Earth and put her on an airplane back home were lost behind quiet brown eyes.  
  
Piper sensed this, a broken feeling in the words and movement of her friend. "Are you okay?" she asked.  
  
Sally pulled away from them slightly without breaking contact. "I don't know," she replied, shaking her head. "I don't even know what that means. These past few days I've felt nothing."  
  
PAST  
  
The elves surrounded Frodo's body and in a reverence of sacred ceremony they had draped him in a shroud of white. They had planned for this. They had waited. Yet, they mourned. Their lament was for the greatness of his burden and the passing of his benevolence. Now that his spirit was at peace, his body should find like repose.  
  
They bore the Ringbearer out of Mt. Doom. Lost and heartbroken, Sally had no choice but to follow them. Gandalf found her straggling behind the elven procession.  
  
That was two days ago.  
  
PRESENT  
  
Gently, Merrick eased her into a chair. He sat beside her as Piper crouched at her feet. Each held her hand, reaffirming their love, support and unfailing presence. "One day I was ordinary and I felt safe," Sally continued, "and then the next, I found I was part of something special . . .legendary and I lived every moment in fear and uncertainty. But now it's changed," she said defeatedly, "but I don't know what it is. I'm numb."  
  
Sally spoke her words from such a great distance within herself that Merrick wondered if they would ever reach her. To think of where she had been, all she had done, mesmerized him. He had adventures but they were not like hers. He envied her. A single thought surfaced again and again in his mind. He could not bring himself to mention it. It was selfish and to utter it aloud would only bring attention to his childish hurt. He couldn't help the way he felt. "How was he?" he asked uneasily, having to clear his throat. "Was it painful?"  
  
"It was quick. I don't think he felt a thing," Sally replied in that same lost voice. In a way, she never really left Mt. Doom. Her expression became wistful as her eyes focused on the past. "Things change so quickly. One minute he was there and the next . . ." She trailed off as the memory clouded her heart. She had to steel herself once more. "But this was the plan. This was what was supposed to happen." She said it with certainty but she had doubt. Saying it didn't make it feel any more true.  
  
Merrick could hold his tongue no longer. "I didn't get to see him."  
  
Sally looked up at him, stricken with a sudden stab of guilt. They had spent all these years together, the three of them, friends that shared an unspeakably deep and precious bond. They never tried to make sense of why they were together. They never saw the need. Now, they knew and the purpose of their friendship transcended destiny. They should have all been together for one last time even if it was just to say good-bye.  
  
Sally knew it was her fault. Sam's fault.  
  
Piper tried to ease the weight of the moment. Her hand came over each of theirs. "He knew he wasn't coming back," he said softly. Somehow she knew it too. She saw it in his eyes as he handed her his credit card on the sunny street corner in Chicago. She saw it but she didn't know what it meant. She didn't know who he was, only that he was important to them. Their missing part.  
  
Merrick straightened in his seat and reached inside his coat. "Elrond messengered this to us after our stint at the bank," he said, retrieving a large brown envelope, folded in half, from his inside pocket. He held it out to Sally's reluctant grasp. "It leaves Shire Publishing and all his assets to you."  
  
She took the envelope slowly as the words spilled out of her in a whisper, "All that he had and might have had." The last thing she wanted was to benefit from Frodo's death.  
  
"His home has a library in it, Sally," Piper said suddenly, wishing to find something which might inspire hope. "I've seen it."  
  
Sally's eyes brightened slightly. She knew what Piper really referred to. Only one book in Frodo's keeping meant anything to her now. "You've seen it. . .?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
Merrick saw the look of hope break across her face and he wanted to fuel it. "It's old but it's still in one piece," he said.  
  
Piper began to smile. "And it's the first of many volumes."  
  
Sally took a quavering breath and began to smile. She could feel the tears coming, healing tears, the first step away from the Crack of Doom.  
  
Merrick reflected her smile and then a new thought intruded. He turned away from her for an instant to reach for something he had just remembered. "Oh, Elrond sent this too, but I don't know what it means."  
  
In his hand he held a brown umbrella.  
  
Sally froze at the sight of it, a brown umbrella which somehow had been retrieved form the airport in Oslo. Her tears retreated, not ready to wash away the pain. A brown umbrella, a sword forever lost in the glamour of the ordinary. Slowly, she reached out and took it from him. It was hers now.  
  
"I've got to . . ."she muttered as she got to her feet unsteadily. She looked around desperately searching for escape. She had to get away but she didn't know where to go. She didn't want to look like she was running away. People who run away usually have people chase after them. "I've got to get some air," she murmured weakly.  
  
"That's okay," Piper said, trying to gloss over her concern. "There's a Starbucks down aways."  
  
Sally nodded mutely and walked away.  
  
At Merrick's shoulder, Piper sighed heavily. "We're making a mess of this."  
  
"She'll be fine," he said. He watched after Sally thoughtfully. "We're hearty folk."  
  
Sally stood in front of the Starbucks. She stared blindly at the menu but did not think she had the strength to order. The events of her life in the past few days had turned the simple act of buying a cup of coffee into something surreal. Life insisted on continuing all around her. The world kept turning. Her heart kept beating. She kept breathing. She truly did not want any of them to stop but she felt them. She felt nothing but them, like she never felt anything else before and it hurt. Each step. Each beat. Each breath. It hurt and she did not know if she would feel this way forever.  
  
Something caused her to turn and watch the multitude of people rushing through the airport. A voice seemed to call to her from the madness of the real world. She looked more closely at the swarming faces and for a moment time began to slow. The sounds of the airport faded until all she could hear was her own heart, her own breaths. The crowds seemed to part to reveal what she looked for.  
  
She saw him.  
  
He stood alone several feet away from her. Motionless, he stared at her with such intent that she felt his gaze as a physical force. She recognized him at once. He waited for her.  
  
She closed the distance between them until she stood before him. Somehow, amazingly, all but his clothes looked the same as he had before. Fate had chosen this image for him for all eternity. He said nothing but only looked at her imploringly, waiting for something only she could give. She swallowed hard and ventured to speak, "Strider . . .?"  
  
He did not nod but smiled an easy smile of gratitude at having been recognized. He cleared his throat slightly and spoke with a voice so familiar, Sally felt a heaviness grow in her chest. "I ask your leave once more to be your companion," he said. His words held the formality of his former life but she could hear the warmth and joy at having found a connection to the Fellowship. To her alarm, he suddenly dropped down to one knee and bowed his head to her. "I pledge my strength and what arms I can find to your cause."  
  
Sally's stomach lurched with discomfort. Dear God, he thought she was Frodo.  
  
"Please, stand up," she said, pulling at him until he returned to his feet. "You owe me no alliegence. I'm Sam."  
  
His smile faded slightly and his eyes narrowed in confusion. "I had a dream," he said softly. "I believed it to be a vision. I saw you at the Crack of Doom." He paused, watching her closely for a reaction. "You had the Ring." He didn't understand and he had little hope that she would hold the answers.  
  
But she knew more than he would ever dread. "It wasn't a dream," she said carefully. Her words tread softly as a harbinger of unpleasant news.  
  
His keen mind focused on the setting of her statement. "Wasn't?"  
  
Sally steadied herself and spoke. "It happened. It's gone. He's gone." Her words were blunt and simple but they were all she could manage to relay to him. She didn't want to tell him. Each of them had suffered the despair left behind. Sometimes it was by choice. Sometimes it was by chance. Either way, it hurt, a sad, pitiful emptiness that could only hold uselessness. Aragorn was not simply left behind. He missed all of it. There was nothing left for him to do, not even worry or hope.  
  
He no longer looked at her as his expression settled on one that Sally knew intimately. "I'm too late," he realized aloud. He focused on finding where he went wrong. What could he have done to make this different? What was the point of his being there if he could do nothing? Fate had a purpose for him but as he had in his former life, he knew that he must endeavor to find it for himself. Life does not always have easy answers.  
  
"It wasn't your quest," Sally said in an effort to ease him. "You did all that your were fated to before." Her manner lacked the warmth and spirit she once had and Aragorn saw for the first time a haunted look behind her eyes. She had locked much of herself away behind a wall, a defining event for which she alone could take the blame. But the wall had cracks and her foundation of silence was beginning to weaken. She tried to take his pain and she could not help but add it to her own. "This whole thing was my mess to clean up. All of this was my fault."  
  
The man that was Aragorn looked upon her with pity. "Oh, Sam, you didn't know."  
  
"But I do now," Sally choked. She flinched as the wall gave way. All of her guilt and shame began to spill to the air for the world to see. "If I hadn't have done what I did. If I hadn't have pulled Gollum off of him. If I hadn't fallen, he wouldn't have been alone." Her tears came and nothing could stop them. "I would have been there to help him then. He could've destroyed it then. Frodo would have been saved while there was still enough of him left to be saved." She grimaced with self-loathing and shook with trembling breaths. "Me and my foolish impulse to save him. Look at what I've done! I sacrificed myself, thinking I died for him, but now I see. Fate has brought me back to see the consequences of my actions." The actions that ended the life of Sam Gamgee became Sally's burden to bear. Until now, she had not spoken of her 'sin'. She had not found a confessor worthy of its magnitude.  
  
Before she realized his intentions, Aragorn had taken her hands and pulled her to him. He held her and she cried. He spoke to her soothingly in soft words that did not register to her conscious mind. Her sobs began to subside as a familiar and welcoming feeling crept into her. 'I am safe. Strider is here. I can rest. Strider will protect me.'  
  
They stood like this for many minutes as the rest of the world continued.  
  
Aragorn looked up at the approach of a young woman with blue tipped black hair. She looked at him curiously with hope and hesitation. "Hi . . ."she said nervously as if she were afraid he might chase her away. "I'm Pippin."  
  
Somehow he knew. She looked oddly right. The smallest, youngest member of the Fellowship, Pippin in no small way represented the innocence of the free world. She could be no one but Pippin. He opened his arm, extending it to her and she jumped into the embrace like a happy child.  
  
"You were the only one who hadn't shown up," a warm male voice spoke from the spot young Pippin had stood. The young man held a twinkle in his eye denoting a cleverness of mind. "We were wondering if you had gotten lost."  
  
Aragorn greeted him with a warm smile. "Fashionably late, Master Brandybuck." He released his other arm from Sam and invited Merry into the fold.  
  
For a moment, Merrick hesitated, held back by the modesty of man, but only for a moment. He stepped in and hugged them all together for in his heart was more than what appeared on the outside. He loved these people. He loved them all.  
  
The man who once was king hugged the three who once were hobbits. Their arms surrounded the young woman he knew as Sam, sheltering her. It was then that Aragorn knew his purpose and the reason for the timing of his arrival. He recalled a boon Frodo had once asked of him just before the Fellowship was broken. He spoke of his leaving. The Ringbearer's words echoed in his mind.  
  
'Take care of the others, especially Sam. He won't understand.'  
  
He bent his head down to her and whispered to her. "My presence here is not useless," he said. "I'm here. All of us are here for you."  
  
Sally sighed, not able to find the words to respond. She didn't know if she could believe him. He elevated her importance too high for her to accept. She was only a gardener, a secretary, a faithful servant. Those identities were real. The rest were illusions, temporary, something she couldn't hold.  
  
But she knew something of stubbornness. She could not talk him out of his pledge. She knew his resolve and at least for now, she would accept it. For the first time in many, many days, she began to think of the future.  
  
THE END  
  
Author's Note: It's over. It's been a long tough road through family obligations, illnesses, and unforeseen computer glitches. Your support has been invaluable to me. I wish I could have honored it better by writing more quickly. I hope you have enjoyed this journey. I know many of you have. I know for certain that one of you didn't. (For that one, I am truly sorry you feel that way but I have to write what's in my heart.)  
  
All that you have seen here is all that I will ever write of Sally, Piper and Merrick and the rest of my reincarnated Fellowship. I leave them all to you. If you wish to continue their journey or enlighten a moment in "Hostile Takeover" that needed more, or, heck, if you even want to go back and rewrite it so that Sally throws herself into the Crack of Doom, feel free. I just want to know about it so I can read it. ( I'm going to devote myself to original works for now. (Look for them as I finish them! "Morticia", "Sweet" and my long one, "Wisdom Tooth".) I think I'm ready.  
  
I will keep up with Bookworm's "Dandelion" and Nix's "Iris" and as I find time, I will look at the rest of your works. You've read mine, now I will read yours. If you need good works to read browse among my fine audience (especially the above-mentioned). Like minds write alike. I will keep you in my thoughts. Happy Holidays!  
  
P.S. Ron's Girl, you've pointed out a huge error in my work to me and I will work to correct it. I plan to fix all errors before posting this to Nindaiwe. Thank you for your vigilance.  
  
God Bless! 


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